


Degrees of Love and Forgiveness

by Blue Rose (Grovehove)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Bitterness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Forgiveness, Future Fic, Grieving Stiles, Hurt Stiles, Kid Fic, M/M, No were kittens hurt in the making of this fanfiction., Single Parent Stiles, Werecats, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1600439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grovehove/pseuds/Blue%20Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rejected by his father and rejected by the pack, Stiles Stilinski left Beacon Hills over six years ago and disappeared off the face of the earth. </p><p>The seventh anniversary of the day Stiles left them all behind, the Sheriff received a desperate phone call from a terrified young child.</p><p>"One forgives to the degree that one loves" – Francois De la Rochefoucauld</p><p>Is there enough love left for forgiveness? Will there be anyone left to forgive when the evil that follows the child gets to Beacon Hill?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One forgives to the degree that one loves – Francois De la Rochefoucauld

 

   Sheriff John Stilinski was just finishing the routine shift hand over to his Deputy Derek Hale when the call was put through to his desk. He sighed. God damn it he was tired, so tired, he just wanted to finish this double shift, go home, no not home, it hadn't been home since Stiles…No he stopped the wayward thoughts right there, he was in work, he could spill his guts when he was home, and once he had found that bottle of Jack he had bought specifically for today then he could really let rip. Today had been a bitch, in more ways than one. It seemed like everyone and their dog in Beacon Hills had decided to break, bend or downright ignore the very existence of the law notwithstanding that today was also one of the hardest days of the year for him personally.  
  
It had been seven years, seven cold guilt filled empty desolate years since his boy had left in fear and anger and desperation.  Since his only son, the image of his adored mother, had left believing his own father had abandoned him, after he had been rejected by his best friend and the pack he had nearly killed himself to protect. Damn it. He was getting maudlin whilst he was still at work when he needed to be professional. Only another ten minutes and he could head back to his empty house to wallow in his own misery.  
Two nights a year he allowed himself the right to that misery. The anniversary of his wife’s death and the wretched day his boy had left. The rest of the time, he had taken Stiles last painful bitter words to heart.  
  
He had cleaned himself up, only drinking on the very rare occasions when putting alcohol into his mouth was the better option than the barrel of his service revolver. He had opened himself up to people again or more accurately he had become a member of the Beacon Hills werewolf pack which meant he was no longer alone unless he wanted to be, and even then the others, his pack mates still didn't seem to understand personal boundaries.  
The offer had been made and god help him accepted when Scott had finally been able to look John in the face again six months after Stiles had left, when the Alpha had come by the house, sobered the Sheriff up, poured away all the liquor he could find and sat and cried his guilt and apologies all over the grieving older man through the night until in the cold clear light of morning, the older man had hugged the younger one, remembering that they both loved Stiles even though they had let him down so badly.  
They had both shared the blame for that awful day,  and he couldn't cut himself off from someone else who had loved Stiles too. He even had three of Scott’s betas working as deputies, the two Hales Derek and Cora and Vernon Boyd.  
  
In the intervening years, he had tried to date Melissa McCall which had been an utter disaster, they knew too much about each other, and the spark had never been there, not really, so now they were friends with benefits.The pair of them were comfortable having sex after their initial disconcerting fumbling which had made the two of them laugh hysterically but they just weren't in love with each other, they both knew loneliness that cut into their very skin, so a warm friendly body and soft kisses from an old and valued friend were appreciated by the both of them. Scott, bless his heart had been offended when he found out that John had no intention of marrying his mom, but the full blown Alpha temper tantrum had been averted by the forefinger and thumb of his determined mother gripping his earlobe painfully and a straight no nonsense facts of life talk which had left the young Alpha blushing, whimpering, begging for bleach so he rinse his brain out and then skulking out of the door to hide for a few days until he could face his mom or John without flushing a bright pink.  He had seemingly accepted their relationships, or more likely had decided to ignore it was happening, becoming true Alpha hadn't changed Scott’s fundamentally oblivious nature too much, only scowling ferociously when his mother made things obvious.

Dear God how Stiles would laugh if he heard the phrase “friends with benefits” coming out of his old man’s mouth. Especially if it referred to John and Melissa, Stiles would so enjoy giving Scott shit for it. But he wasn't here to give Scott shit for it was he? Stiles didn't know anything that had happened in Beacon Hills over the last seven years, because he had never come home. Stiles had never contacted anyone, not his father, not his best friend, not his former pack mates. No one from Beacon Hills had heard from him once he had passed the boundary lines. He had sold his beloved Jeep three towns away, taken a train to San Francisco and then Stiles had disappeared off the face of the earth. No-one had been able to find him, not Danny with his electronic wizardry, not John with his police contacts and resources, and not even Peter with his supernatural networks.  
  
The shrill ringing of his direct line was insistent and Derek shot him a surprised look, those damn eyebrows of his raised in silent enquiry as to why he was slow in picking the damn thing up.

The Sheriff sighed, gave his concerned Deputy and pack mate a lopsided grin and reached for the irritating phone, Derek could handle most things now, he was a good officer, one of John’s best, the term poacher turned gamekeeper bandied about in the station in the early days of Derek’s role was an insult really. The lad hadn't been a criminal, just a messed up grieving young man who didn't know how to handle the shit he had to cope with mostly alone.

John lifted the receiver and a young scared lisping voice asked in a stuttering whisper “Sheriff Stilinski?”

His fingers automatically went to the speaker button so that his Deputy could hear everything, even though he knew with Derek’s enhanced senses he could hear it anyway, but it was a habit he insisted upon because not all his Deputies were werewolves. This child sounded so young, he couldn't even be sure if it was a boy or girl.  
His heart sank, he hated the cases that involved kids, and his voice was impossibly gentle as he spoke “I am the Sheriff honey, what’s the matter, how can I help you”.

There was a pause, and the two men could hear the muffled sobbing of a very young child. The Sheriff looked at his Deputy, and was gratified to see that Derek had already moved silently to the door and beckoned to Boyd, his voice low as he told his pack mate to trace the call, then he came back to take up his previous position by the Sheriff’s desk. John spared him one nod of approval before he continued speaking in that warm gentle encouraging voice

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, everything’s going to be okay, I'm here, can you tell me what’s wrong so I can help you? I would really like to help you”

“Wha’ does trace the call mean?” the crying young voice was now wary and suspicious, the stress in its tone much more evident. Both men looked at each other as surprise turned to shocked understanding. Derek spoke calmly but with a touch of compulsion “Are you Wolf little one?”

John looked at him in shock for a second at the question being asked aloud in his office but then remembered that the only Deputies actually in the station on duty tonight were either Weres themselves or were aware of the supernatural situation in Beacon Hills.

They heard panic and fear in the child’s voice, “Who‘re you? Daddy told me to only speak to the Sheriff, Sheriff Stilinski, mustn’t talk to strangers.” Both men had the same mental image of the child slamming down the phone in panic if they didn’t reassure the kid in time.

John reacted quickly, they couldn't let the distraught kid off the line. “It’s okay Sweetheart, that’s just my nice Deputy Derek but I am John Stilinski the Sheriff, you need only talk to me. Can you tell me your name and how I can help you?”

The pause grew longer and the only comfort John had was he could see Boyd returning with a piece of paper and nodding his head. Thank god they had a location now. Derek briefly checked the paper and then handed it to the Sheriff. The kid was calling from a motel about fifteen miles away from Beacon Hills. John jerked his head towards the exit and Derek was heading out, understanding his Sheriff’s unspoken order to get going. His Deputy would be at the kid’s location in under ten minutes.

“I can’t wake Daddy” the little one finally wailed, “I've tried and tried but he won’t wake up and I'm scared”.

The multitude of horrific scenarios which ran through John’s head didn't stop him from trying to sooth the little kid. Shit, they needed paramedics, but he had to know what situation they would be walking in on.

He tried to calm the distressed child, he had to get the kid to tell him what was going on, why had the kid asked for him specifically? Wild hope was singing in his veins battling with the terrifying fear that he might be too late. But he swept it all to the back of his mind as he focused on his job. “Its okay sweetheart we’ll have an ambulance there straight away and your Daddy will be fine, but can you tell me what happened?”  
  
The kid interrupted him in a full blown panic “No, No, only you come, only you. Daddy said only you. It has to be you. Daddy’s magic dust will stop the nasty growly doggies and the bad men don’t know where we are. But my Daddy won’t wake up, he’s just lying there and he won’t wake up. I want my Daddy to wake up, please, please only you”

The colour drained from John’s face and he looked up to see Derek stopped in his tracks, his muscular body still as a stone statue, neck rigid with tension as he twisted his head back towards the Sheriff, staring at him as if he had seen a ghost, and there was Cora and Boyd heading towards the Sheriff’s office as if a fire had been lit underneath their backsides. All three Beta’s eyes glowed as their wolves came to the fore because they could hear their human pack mate’s heart start to pound heavily.

John didn't take his eyes from the blue intense gaze of Derek Hale, his Deputy’s face was grim, lips pulled thin as if to keep his tongue between his teeth, and his muscular shoulders tight with strain. The Sheriff tried to hide the tension in his husky voice, he could hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears but it took a few deep breaths and two attempts before his tone was firm and soothing enough to continue the conversation with the frightened young child.

“Of course I will come sweetheart but first can you tell me your names. I need to know your names, and how was your Daddy hurt?”

The little one answered the last part of the question first and John felt nausea rise up into his throat. No child should have to witness violence. “Bad men and nasty doggies hurt my Daddy and now he won’t wake up.” The child drew in another breath and then as if remembering the rest of the Sheriff’s questions carried on, pleading for help. “ Please wake him up. Kit, my Daddy calls me Kit but I have the same name as my grandpa, my name is Linden… ” then to their gut churning horror, they heard the child scream in absolute terror before they lost the connection on the phone.

 The Sheriff and Deputy Derek Hale were in the lead patrol car, Deputies Boyd and Hale the younger in the following car. John had ran for that patrol car like a bat out of hell and it was only Derek’s superior strength that allowed him to get to the car first and firmly declare he was driving. John hadn’t argued, just buckled himself into the passenger seat and set the blues flashing. At Derek’s frown, he merely grunted, “Just until we get to within a mile of the motel, it will keep people ot of our way, but no sirens” Derek shrugged his acceptance and concentrated on peeling out of the station car park as if all the devils in hell were after them. 

Deputy Parrish had been left to co-ordinate the information from the motel and stay by the phone in case the child rang again so that it could be put straight through to the Sheriff in the racing patrol car. The only information they had so far was that a father and young son had booked into the motel in the early hours of the morning under the name of Ashby. The father had paid for two nights in cash and the clerk hadn't been interested enough to take any notice of them.

Derek was the first to speak, he glanced warily at the tense figure besides him. Derek could smell the anxiety, despair and guilt emanating from the man. The last time he remembered the Sheriff looking that stern and drawn was when their final resort in the search for Stiles, Derek’s psychotic Uncle Peter, had reported that there had been nothing on the supernatural grapevine about the boy. Privately Derek had thought that was the day that the Sheriff had lost whatever hope he had left and had buried himself in work after one dark weekend with numerous bottles.

He cleared his throat, and saw the Sheriff’s blank blue eyes slide towards him, the car now going well above the speed limits but since they were the law, in an actual patrol car and Derek could drive the car blind if he had to with only his werewolf senses as his guide, neither of them were too worried about the consequences.

Damn it, he would just say it, John knew Derek couldn't beat about the bush to save his own life,

“Whatever this is, it’s bad, Cora has alerted the rest of the pack and they are going to meet us at the motel, Scott will probably be there before us, we will help the little one but I have to be honest, I thought for while this had something to do with Stiles”

John’s voice was grim as he responded to the unasked prompt “What makes you think it doesn't?”

The car swerved, then was back on its correct course. “The kid said he was called Linden after his Grandfather” Derek murmured in confusion, not looking at the rigid man. But instead of anger the Sheriff’s next words were filled with sadness and for a second Derek could scent the salty tears that filled the older man’s eyes

“What do you think the L in John L Stilinski stands for?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little boy had seen the luminous blue eyes glaring at him through the window of the motel cabin and he had screamed and screamed, dropping the phone in the process and he had run for his father lying so still in the bed. His father had promised him that no nasty doggy could get through his magic barrier before Daddy had fallen into that deep sleep where he couldn't hear Kit calling for him, where he couldn't hear how scared Kit was, and how much he wanted his Daddy to cuddle him to make things better.
> 
> Warnings for lots of Angst. This is mainly Kit's POV.

The little boy had seen the luminous blue eyes glaring at him through the window of the motel cabin and he had screamed and screamed, dropping the phone in the process and he had run for his father lying so still in the bed. His father had promised him that no nasty doggy could get through his magic barrier before Daddy had fallen into that deep sleep where he couldn't hear Kit calling for him, where he couldn't hear how scared Kit was, and how much he wanted his Daddy to cuddle him to make things better.

He had been whispering down the phone at the Sheriff, his Daddy had said it was safe to talk to the Sheriff but only the Sheriff because there were doggie people in the Sheriff’s town too and Daddy didn't want to have anything to do with them.

Now there was one outside the cabin, Kit hadn't heard him arrive because he was so intent on talking to the Sheriff, but now he could hear the angry growling, the fast heartbeat, and he could smell the rage and fur and blood lust dripping off the horrible stinky thing.

Kit’s screams had made those scary eyes blaze and the thing leapt for the window, only to fall back  with a pained howl and the smell of burning flesh and fur when it hit the magical barrier, The enraged beast tried again and again whilst Kit trembled and buried his face in his Daddy’s arms, whimpering for him to wake up, his little fingers unconsciously turning into claws and digging into his Daddy’s shoulders until Kit finally heard the slamming of car doors and deep growls and shouts that made the nasty doggie stop and  then run.

Kit’s little body flooded with terror, what was so scary that it scared that big monster into running away?  When Kit heard the many footsteps coming towards the cabin where his Daddy was lying defenceless, anger and fear forced the change without his conscious will. Kit and Cub both agreed. No-one was going to hurt his Daddy, no-one, and Cub was better at fighting than Kit. His claws were sharper and his teeth were longer and he had four paws with claws to do damage.

The cabin door swung open, Kit’s sensitive nose smelt them. Doggies, lots of them, but blocked by Daddy’s magic. A human had opened the door because the Doggies couldn’t get to it. They were all in a sort of grey and green uniform with the same colour hats on their heads. Kit’s ice blue eyes focused on the human, and he roared his challenge.

 

* * *

 

When his Daddy had fallen asleep on the bed, Kit had wanted to cry, he was so scared, those nasty men had hurt his Daddy but Daddy had managed to get them away, even when he had to carry Kit cos Kit was too scared to run.   
  
Kit had tried to do what Daddy had whispered in his ear before Daddy’s amber eyes had closed, he had tried to sleep curled up against his Daddy but he couldn't smell Daddy’s proper scent. His Daddy scent was _home_ and _sweet spicy cinnamon_ and _tickling_ and _giggling_ and _Reese’s pieces candy_ and even the earthy popping powerful smell that made his nose tingle and tickle his insides when Daddy did his magic stuff, they were all his Daddy’s proper smells. But all those lovely safe smells were buried under _hurt, run, scared, blood_ and _cold_.   
  
Even when Kit rubbed his head into Daddy’s face and neck, lifted his limp hand to nuzzle his palm, pleading and purring cos his Daddy loved to hear his purring even when he teased Kit about it, his Daddy hadn't moved, at all. Nothing worked. Daddy’s scent didn't change and it was hurting Kit somewhere deep in his chest and he didn't know what to do and he needed his Daddy and he didn't want to cry cos he was a big boy, but he couldn't stop his eyes from leaking cos he tried everything he could think of to try to bring back Daddy’s proper scent, and make him wake up but he couldn't do it and when he felt how cold his Daddy was, he knew he had to have help.   
  
He had been very, very little but he remembered how cold and still Mama had been in the dark scary building after the nasty people had hurt Mama before Daddy had found them both.   
He was so scared that Daddy wasn't going to wake up just like Mama hadn't woken up and he remembered that telephone number Daddy had made him practice and practice and practice until he could say every single number in the right order and even tap them into a phone. Daddy had been really proud of him that day, calling him his clever cutie kitty cat. Kit pretended sometimes he didn't like Daddy’s names for him because he was a big boy not a baby, but Kit liked the warm tingly feeling the names gave him, the same way his blue blanky used to make him feel when he was very little before he left it with his Mama when Daddy said she had to leave them and go to heaven to be with her Mama and Papa. He wasn't sure if Heaven was a cold place, cos it had lots of clouds and snow sometimes fell from clouds but Kit didn't want Mama to be cold when she was there. His Daddy had cried when Kit had told him and cried even more when Kit had asked how long Mama had to stay with Waipo and Waigong until she came home again.

 

* * *

 

So Kit reluctantly moved away from his Daddy and went to the grey phone besides the stinky couch in the small living area which had the silly little television that didn't work properly. He picked the handset up and pressed each numbered button carefully repeating the number out loud so that he wouldn't forget.

He held the handset to his ear and he was shaking so bad.  When he heard the man’s voice for a moment he panicked, he couldn't remember what his Daddy had called him. For some reason his fangs dropped, as if Cub wanted him to know he was there too, so he didn't have to be scared.   
Then Kit remembered, and he whispered the words, lisping slightly because of his fangs, almost not expecting an answer when he said “Sheriff Stilinski”. The last part, the surname had been hard to learn and his Daddy had given him this really sad smile when he had tried to say it the first time as if he wanted to laugh but something was hurting inside him, so Kit had made an extra special effort to learn to say it properly and that awful sadness had melted into Daddy’s wide happy proper smile.   
  
Daddy always smiled with his mouth, he smiled at everyone cos he said life was easier if you used honey instead of vinegar ( _Daddy had laughed and laughed when Kit had tried vinegar on his pancakes one morning to see if Daddy was right)_ but it was only for Kit that he smiled with his mouth and his eyes too. Kit was really proud that he had the same colour eyes as Daddy cos Daddy’s eyes were beautiful and whenever he looked at Kit those eyes made Kit feel like the most special thing in the whole world. Kit kinda felt sorry for Cub that his eyes were blue, but Cub didn't seem to mind too much. Cub liked Daddy’s eyes too. He always purred to make Daddy’s eyes smile.

Kit heard the Sheriff’s voice and suddenly he couldn't help himself, he was crying. Kit never cried with strangers, he would never let them see him cry. He only ever cried with Daddy, cos Daddy was safe and would look after him. Something about the Sheriff’s voice made him feel safe too.   
He knew the Sheriff would help his Daddy. But then he heard the voice of the doggy, talking in the background, using words Kit didn't understand and suddenly he was wary, why would the Sheriff have nasty doggies with him?

Kit didn't know what to do and he rocked himself and whimpered his distress until the Sheriff’s voice curled into his ears again and his voice was so kind and calm and sounded like home but he couldn't be home because Daddy was home and there was only Kit and Daddy now, so he didn't know what to do.  
  
The Sheriff had to come to them to help Daddy by himself and when he answered the Sheriff’s questions about his name, Kit had begged him to come alone, just like Daddy had wanted but before he could tell the Sheriff where to come and help them, Kit had raised his head and seen the blazing blue eyes staring at him through the window. He had dropped the phone as he screamed and ran for his Daddy.

 

* * *

 

The Sheriff had the patrol car door opened before Derek had even pulled to stop outside the Cabin.

He was out of the car with his gun drawn and moving towards the building but his Deputies moved with incredible speed and had him surrounded in a ring of werewolf protection before the sounds of the enraged howling of another creature had even hit his human ears. All of them except Derek had changed to their Beta forms, a sight John Stilinski still found incredible even after all the years he had been part of the pack.

Derek’s famous glare was on his face, and he howled his warning at the inhuman beast behind the cabin. Boyd murmured quietly, “Scott, Isaac and Erica are coming through the woods now”

Derek grunted in acknowledgement but before he and Boyd could head for the snarling beast, it took off with a strange limping gait towards the woods, directly into the path of the oncoming Alpha and the other two weres.

Derek shrugged, Scott and the others would deal with it. He and the rest of the Deputies had their human boss and pack mate to protect and a child to save. But there was something strange, a scent he had never come across before. Yet there was a tantalising familiarity to it that teased at him. Before he could inform John, the Sheriff had already made his move.

He had stepped through the magical barrier as if it didn't exist, and he slowly pushed opened the door, his gun ready, using his experience to try to mitigate the risk of an outright attack, but he had to get into the cabin to make sure the little one was safe and find out if… find out if. Useless speculation would get him nowhere. He would know soon enough.

He stepped through the door, ignoring the loud and vocal protests of his Deputies because they couldn't follow him.

He came to a complete halt at the sight that greeted him. His gun dropping down to his side in a move that would have earned a severe reprimand for any of his staff.

On a double bed, crouched over the still body of a man was a white, no it was more a blue grey coloured Tiger cub. Ice blue eyes were focused on him like he was breakfast and the cub hadn't eaten for a week.   
A surprisingly deep roar left the small creature’s mouth which silenced his Deputies, until the cub leapt straight at him, claws and fangs visible and hissing with rage.

The Sheriff’s arm came up in a movement that was pure instinct, his weapon primed and ready. The sound of a shot ran out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the reaction I have had to this one. You are all fabulous. Thank you xx
> 
> So second chapter, another cliff hanger and now you hate me, well I'd hate me too but I have already started the next chapter and know what's happening....does that make you hate me more? Hehhehe. If I get lots of comments I might be encouraged to post chapter 3 before the end of the weekend... oh ignore that I am going to publish it anyway. I refuse to blackmail people into writing comments, I just love the fact that my story is being read anything is a beautiful bonus xx
> 
> A couple of notes for you.
> 
> Note1: Grandma = Waipo and Grandpa Waigong come from Southern china (maternal) – this will make sense when I explain more about the fluffiest cutest were tiger cub in existence. Hope I have got this right Googled it so if its wrong let me know, happy to change
> 
> Note 2. Tigers can’t purr, they chuff. But its my story, my head canon and Kit can purr because he’s a supernatural being and I am not sacrificing the diabetes inducing fluff that this purring were tiger kitten can bring. Besides which in certain slang from other parts of my complex and delightful country "chuffing" either means bottom burping aka farting or vomiting after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, so no, I can’t and won’t have a chuffing were tiger baby. Sorry. 
> 
> Enjoy peeps xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek watched in angry frustration as the young cub leapt towards the Sheriff, the scent of the little one’s terrible fear, anger and determination to protect the prone figure on the bed behind him was painfully obvious to all the wolves.

Derek watched in angry frustration as the young cub leapt towards the Sheriff, the scent of the little one’s terrible fear, anger and determination to protect the prone figure on the bed behind him was painfully obvious to all the wolves. Boyd rumbled his discomfort sub vocally and Cora was snarling, body vibrating with the need to attack something so that everyone was safe. Derek was the only one who was managing to keep control but he wasn’t sure how much longer that would last if he had to continue to just watch the bloody Sheriff walk into danger without backup.  
Why the hell hadn’t the Sheriff broken the barrier so that they could all get in and they could contain the threat without anyone getting hurt? Derek’s eyes flashed blue, his wolf close to the surface as they widened with horror. Oh God, the Sheriff was raising his weapon. “No John” he roared in desperation. The man would never forgive himself if he hurt the cub, or even killed it. But before the young tiger had even reached the human a shot rang out and the bullet smacked into the wall mere inches from the Sheriff’s head.

“If you move a muscle you bastard the next one will be between your eyes”, the hoarse raspy voice was from the suddenly awake, aware, armed, half way upright man on the bed.

At the sound of that voice, the cub seemed to spin in mid-air, fall to the ground and then leapt into the lap of the man on the bed with breath-taking speed. Long dark hair with a solid band of silver trailing from his widow’s peak obscured the man’s face in the dimly lit room.

“Its ok Cub, you were so brave, Daddy’s so proud of you, you are such a brave tiger Cub to look after Kit and me, now I need to speak to Kit my beautiful Cub, so proud of you.” The hard voice had softened and now soothed the trembling little animal clinging to him with his claws digging into his legs and there was no hint of a wince or pain.

And before the eyes of the astonished Sheriff and the rest of the pack, the tiger cub transformed into a naked little brown haired boy with big amber slightly almond shaped eyes.

The little boy reached for his father’s neck, knowing to avoid the arm holding the gun, but tucked his head against his father's chest and then began to sob, whimpering for his Daddy. The man lovingly stroked the little one’s hair and allowed him to cry out his fear whilst the small gun in his other hand didn't waiver, not even deigning to look at his captive whilst he comforted the child, whispering loving nonsense into the little one’s ears.

The Sheriff didn't move a muscle, he knew he was treading on ice but he needed to see the guy’s face, the voice was too damaged to recognise so he needed to see his face, for the love of God he needed to see his face.  
“You do know you are holding a gun to the head of a Sheriff, don’t you son, which is pretty much an offence whichever way you look at it?” he asked with just the right amount of dry sarcasm to catch the other man’s interest.

His free hand tightened on the young child but the guy’s head shot up as he snarled “You pointed a gun at my son you fucker, you’re lucky you are still breathing” His vicious truth laden words trailed off into shocked silence as he actually looked at the man he was holding at gun point for the first time.

The Sheriff looked into the haggard, scarred, grim, older face of his son, and his heart stopped. He could feel that bloody thing actually come to a halt in his chest and for a moment, Stiles face blurred as tears threatened but he forced them away, he wasn't going to shed tears in front of his boy and his grandson now, he would weep like a baby later in the privacy of his own room when he had the two of them safe where they belonged in his house under his protection. He just wasn't sure he could get his voice to say the name on his lips, until finally he managed to whisper “Stiles”. Without thought of any danger he took an eager hopeful step towards his son.

The gun had begun to lower until the man on the bed gave a short cynical laugh, those amber eyes hard and almost delirious, and the gun was again pointing at the Sheriff’s face, “Another fucking illusion Koi, you must be getting desperate” hatred, pure and simple dripped from the venomous words, and any hesitation or softness not directed to the child was gone.

John watched with horror as his son began to put pressure on the trigger of that squat little weapon.

The deputy wolf pack had been watching the events unfold in silent disbelief. They had not been able to cross the barrier and stared in helpless rage at the precarious position the Sheriff was in.

“For god’s sake Stiles, that’s your father” Derek roared but the stranger who was Stiles just smirked darkly “Koi, Koi, Koi" he sang the name mockingly before the murderous rage was back "I told you what would happen if you came near us again”

It was the soft scared voice of the little boy which managed to halt his father’s movements

“Daddy, I called the number”

Stiles never looked away from the illusion of the Sheriff standing against the wall. But his voice lowered and softened for his son. “Kit darling what did you say?” It was bad enough he would have to destroy the illusion in front of his son. The little boy had seen too much horror in his short life already, and Stiles selfishly wanted to delay the moment but if that damned thing moved from the wall, he would kill it anyway. He refused to acknowledge just how much like his father the damn thing was, visual and auditory perfection. That fucking bastard Koi, if he didn’t have to protect Kit, he would make that evil son of a bitch burn. Molotov cocktails be damned, Stiles skills now could make Peter Hale’s fiery death look like the flickering of a candle in a draft. His son’s words dragged him back from the dark and dangerous thoughts.

“I called the number Daddy, the one you made me learn, ‘member. I called the number cos I was scared Daddy and you wouldn't wake up.” the little boy whimpered imploringly.

“You called the number baby?” Stiles voice was low and unsure, trying to force himself to think instead of react with the deadly instincts which had become second nature trying to run and protect his boy. Kit heard the confusion in his Daddy’s voice “The number for the Sheriff Daddy, the one you made me learn” the little boy was insistent, as if on some level he knew this was the only way to stop his Daddy. Kit had recognised the man’s voice when he had spoken to Daddy, this was the same man who had answered the phone and been kind to him. Kit wasn't sure how cos he hadn't told the Sheriff where he and his Daddy were before the monster came to the window, but he couldn't smell any magic on him, just stinky doggies yuk, but that didn't matter cos it was the Sheriff’s voice he was sure of it.  Daddy was still not well because of the nasty men, and Kit was sure his Daddy wouldn't want to hurt the man he was supposed to ring if Daddy couldn't help him.

“For the love of God Stiles, it’s your father you moron, now let us in” And wasn't that surly grumpy angry voice a blast from the past and familiar from his dreams, nightmares, he meant his bloody nightmares.

For a few seconds Stiles brain seized up on him, he hurt all over, he had expended more energy, emotional, physical and magical over the last ten days than he dared to think about, and he was utterly exhausted. The only reason he wasn't still comatose was because he sensed the unknown entity enter the cabin, a potential threat to his son so it had triggered his awareness. Anything outside hadn't trickled through at all because he knew his child was safe within his protections and wards.

In his dazed but deadly state he didn't protest when Kit wriggled out of his arms, not until he saw his boy head towards the illusion against the wall.

“Kit, stop” the growl he uttered gave the wolves a run for their money, but the little boy merely smiled up at him. “I can’t smell the stinky magic Koi uses Daddy, and the man is the one I talked to on the phone. I know his voice and he sounds like home, just like you do”

Stiles felt the words like a punch to his gut. He was so tired, he couldn't make rational decisions but if what Kit was saying was true, he had nearly killed his own father.  He watched silently as the Sheriff slid down the wall as if his strings had been cut and sat on the floor in front of the little boy.  He slid the gun he was holding away from him, and spoke to the man even though his wet eyes didn't leave the beautiful child in front of him. “Stiles please, let me help you, let me help him please?”

Stiles ignored his father’s words, he knew he didn't have the time left  to speak to both his father and his son, before the need to sleep blocked out everything again. He could feel his magic forcing his body to rest. So he concentrated on Kit. It was only sheer bloody-minded stubbornness that had kept him on upright on the bed that long, now his mind was admitting that Kit would be safe, his body was relaxing, not giving a shit if Stiles wanted to stay awake any longer.

“Kit sweetheart, this is your grandpa. Stay with him until Daddy wakes up again but don’t go near the Doggies, okay? I need to sleep again. I love you baby boy”

Stiles closed his eyes on the sight of his son moving timidly towards his father who was holding onto the floor as if he was going to fall off it. He ignored the calls from the pack at the door, and his father’s concerned questions, he would deal with it all when he woke up, before he and Kit got out of the thrice damned place for good, and relaxed back into the healing sleep he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the third chapter is up. Because I just couldn't leave my little kitten flailing in mid air!
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos. Really pleased you like it. If I haven't responded to a comment yet, will do soon.
> 
> I am trying to stick to a schedule of once a week with this one, and 9 chapters might be a tad under estimated. I haven't even got through everything I had planned for chapter 2 yet and we are already on chapter 3. Sigh!
> 
> So enjoy. Next chapter Kit gets to know his grandpa and he meets the doggies... Stiles has a kip for a little while, think he deserves it poor lamb.  
> P.S Stiles doesn't normally swear in front of his little boy but he's sleep addled, and adrenaline fuelled to defend his baby so he's not quite all there at the moment. xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback:
> 
> Stiles didn't know how he had got to the big cat enclosure in the San Francisco Zoo. It was a week day, and mostly overcast, surprisingly there weren’t that many people around. Stiles had bought an entry ticket on impulse, he had enough money not to worry for a good few months, and if he eked it out, even a year, courtesy of his beloved Jeep, and his now defunct college fund but he had also “Invoiced” the pack for his services for the last two years. Independent Consultants and researchers didn’t work for nothing did they? It’s not as if he was pack was he? He didn't try to save them from the monster of the week, human or supernatural out of the love of his heart and a need to protect his friends, his bloody caring and sharing family did he? So they could pay for his time, for his blood, sweat and tears, literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start reading just wanted you to know that the Parts in italics are flashbacks / Memories. The normal text is the current part of the story. Hope this works!
> 
> OOps slight edit, left out some crucial sentences about Stiles's "invoicing process". That will teach me to upload a new chapter when I should be fast asleep!

_Stiles didn't know how he had got to the big cat enclosure in the San Francisco Zoo. It was a week day, and mostly overcast, surprisingly there weren’t that many people around. Stiles had bought an entry ticket on impulse, he had enough money not to worry for a good few months, and if he eked it out, even a year, courtesy of his beloved Jeep, and his now defunct college fund but he had also “Invoiced” the pack for his services for the last two years. Meaning he had raided the bank accounts of the pack, the ones that could afford his "fees", Derek, Jackson, Lydia and Danny were all chosen to pay the pack's outstanding debt. Stiles was sure that any impulse to bring him to justice would be short lived,as he knew where the bodies were buried. Literally!_  
 _Independent Consultants and researchers didn’t work for nothing did they? It’s not as if he was pack was he? He didn't try to save them from the monster of the week, human or supernatural out of the love of his heart and a need to protect his friends, his bloody caring and sharing family did he? So they could pay for his time, for his blood, sweat and tears, again literally. He had also taken all his information, his updated bestiary, erased his hard drive and taken his magically enhanced baseball bat to his beloved laptop and phone, leaving his treacherous ex friends with only the research he had shared with Lydia._  
 _He had left Derek and Scott an itemised invoice so they could claim tax relief on it. He hadn't charged them for the scars or broken limbs or the PTSD. He had been more than fair on the hourly rate, he hadn't even included overtime_.

 _Now he was in the Zoo just wandering around, deep in his thoughts but at least he wasn't going to have to interact with anyone. For the last five days he had been operating on autopilot. He had run after the shit storm had hit on the Thursday, he hadn't stopped running. He was numb, all emotions, and thoughts on lock down. God almighty, what did it say about his life? What did it say about him? That he already had plans in place to deal with a treachery so personal that he never believed it would happen. That even though he hadn’t expected it, that he couldn't believe they had done that do him, that even his own father had been involved, he still had been able to pull everything together and disappear into the damn wind.  They had known his weaknesses, where to hit to hurt the most. God why hadn't they just ripped his throat out it would have been kinder and cleaner!  
But they had forgotten that the pathetic little human liability with the built in use-by date  knew their weaknesses, all their fucking weaknesses the arrogant dicks and knew their strengths too, he knew how they thought, and there was no way they would find him unless he allowed them too. _ _Bite him Danny! And right now he never wanted to see their lying deceitful cruel fucking faces ever again. Beneath the numbness, he could feel the anger, the sheer unadulterated rage that wanted to make them eat wolvesbane bullets but he didn’t dare let it out because beneath the anger was a world of pain and he had no interest in dealing with that at all._

_“If you stare at the tiger like that without blinking it will take it as a challenge you know” a soft teasing voice broke into his introspection. He flailed at the sound and his cheeks pinked with embarrassment as he glanced left in surprise and saw a petite dark haired girl next to him, a small smirk on her mouth as she turned to face him. Stiles drew in a deep breath, “God you’re beautiful” he blurted out as his eyes roamed the translucent pale skin, warm wide green eyes and night black hair. “You only need the ruby red lips and you could be Snow White’s double” he rambled, and then blushed almost as much as she did. “Huh sorry to be a creeper, I’ll just go now” he muttered shamefaced but stopped when he heard her delighted laughter._

Kit watched his Daddy go back to sleep, he knew Daddy needed to rest and he wouldn't have closed his eyes if things weren't safe again, but he so wished that Daddy hadn't. Kit knew he was a big boy but right now he wasn't sure he wanted to be. There were so many strangers near him, most of them stinky doggies, and then there was the funny man on the floor in front of him, who smelt both sad and happy.  Then curiosity sparked through him as he remembered what Daddy had said, it seemed to make the fright go away, well maybe a little bit went away cos he could still feel like Cub wanted to come out and warn everyone with some scary hissing, but Daddy had said that the sad, happy man on the floor, the Sheriff was his Grampa.  
Kit turned to look at him, tilting his head a little, Cub wanted him to step closer, he wanted to scent him, see if he really smelt like home as well as sounded like home, but Kit was not so sure yet. So Kit put on his most serious face and asked him instead “Are you really my Grampa?”, then his little heart started to beat faster and he began to move from one foot to the other, as he became more alarmed and asked hurriedly “Why are you crying? Don’t you want to be my Grampa?” and Kit could feel his own tears rising at the thought this man didn’t want to be his grandfather. “'M sorry I tried to hurt you but I won’t do it again” he whispered sorrowfully, those amber eyes darkening with tears.

Then he meeped in surprise when the man on the floor tugged him into his arms and buried his head against Kit’s neck. Kit began to squirm as the strange sad happy man suddenly peppered his face with little kisses but before Kit could get out of his arms, his mad Grampa stopped and gave him a beaming smile. “I am so pleased and proud to be your Grampa little man, you are so brave and clever.”

One of the doggies at the door growled angrily at his Grampa “John for the love of God will you please break the barrier and let us in.” Kit glared at the big scary doggy man and hissed, Cub close to the surface. He could feel his claws wanting to escape but he didn't want to upset his Grampa again. But he would if that big monster carried on growling.  Doggies were bad, and nasty and stinky and this one had no right to talk to his human Grampa like that.  
  
The dark haired Doggy with the wiggly eyebrows looked at him and his eyes flashed at Kit, “Be still little Cat” he ordered calmly as if Kit would obey him. Hah. Daddy would have laughed, and said Cats never obeyed orders, which wasn’t fair cos Kit always listened to Daddy, maybe not always cos sometimes if he was interested in something he kind of forgot what Daddy had said, but Kit didn’t do it to be naughty and Daddy knew it.

 But Kit wasn’t fooled by that Doggy’s calm tone. The Doggy’s eyes still looked angry.  He knew how deceitful Doggies were and he wasn’t going to trust them. Daddy had said not to go near them but he had to keep his Grampa safe from them. Kit’s eyes became predatory, and unblinking. Cub began to push at him to come out again.

A large hand stroked his head gently, “Kit, Kit it’s okay Sweetheart, these are my friends and they work for me. We look after the people of Beacon Hill together” his Grampa’s voice was soothing again, making Kit feel safe.  Kit stared at the Doggy staring at him for one last moment and then turned and butted his head gently against his Grampa’s chin, before disentangling himself from his Grampa’s arms and moving towards the bag that carried all of Kit’s clothes and toys, simply saying “I'm cold”

The Sheriff watched his grandson, Jesus Christ he had a grandson, move towards the bed, running a caressing hand over his unconscious father’s arm, shoulder and hair as he walked past, an almost inaudible purring coming from him, until he got to the disreputable, stained, dark coloured duffel bag on the other side of the room. He emptied it with efficiency and then repacked it swiftly, the concise actions more suited to a child three times his age.  
  
Dear God, how long had Stiles and the child been running, what the hell were they running from, how old was the little kid? Frantic questions ran through the Sheriff’s brain as he raised himself from the floor and finally made his way to the entrance to clear the magical barrier for his Deputies to enter, resolutely ignoring the irritation and anger on their faces, as they made their way into the room, and quickly searched the cabin. Boyd pulled together the rest of the belongings he could find and was heading back out to the patrol car. Cora was searching through the cabin for anything that could tell them why they were there or what was after them, and Derek. Derek stood on the other side of the bed, giving the little one space, but in a position that allowed him to study Stiles’s prone figure and surreptitiously catalogue his body through scent and sight for any obvious damage or injuries. If his gaze lingered overlong on Stile’s face, no-one mentioned it.

The Sheriff knew damn well his Alpha would have a few words to say to him about heading into potential danger by himself and not letting the pack back him up. But he would deal with that later, at least one of his questions could be answered straight away.

He moved towards the little boy again, and softly asked “Kit, how old are you?” The child had already put on a pair of jeans and a little red t shirt which looked like Robin’s outfit with an honest to god little yellow cape hanging off the back of it. He was struggling to pull on a pair of sneakers that had a comic strip pattern, his little pink tongue peeking out as he concentrated. John didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Trust his boy to dress his own kid up in a Batman themed outfit. John heard the familiar click of camera phones and then Erica’s delighted coos. If Erica was already here then so was Scott and Isaac but John wasn’t going to be distracted from his grandson who was also ignoring the pack as if they didn’t exist as his guileless amber eyes looked up at his grandfather. Claudia’s and Stiles’s beautiful amber eyes. “I’m four and three quarters Grampa” the little boy announced proudly. “Can you help me with my shoes please?”

As John knelt to help the little boy, he could feel more of his pack hover behind him. He heard Scott’s simple exhale of his son’s name, and then the Alpha seemed to subside into a stunned silence; he felt Isaac head towards Derek, and lean against the older man as they both stared down at Stiles, Derek’s face unreadable but his fist were clenched. Isaac was more open in his reactions as he whined a little and pressed himself closer to Derek. The little boy’s head swung away from his grandfather and he glared at the two wolves staring at his Daddy.

“Don’t you touch my Daddy” the little voice had deepened but he was lisping again, his fangs had dropped and were visible as he snarled the words and his eyes were flashing blue.

John looked sharply up at Derek and Isaac but before he could say anything to calm the little boy, Erica interrupted, her smile unguarded and genuine as she flung herself to her knees beside the Sheriff “Hey Robin, we are your Daddy’s friends, we won’t hurt him.  I’m your Daddy’s Cat-woman” she teased gently.

The little boy leapt for her with his claws out snarling in rage, fur and fang descending. It was only the fact that the Sheriff was right there at the child’s feet that enabled him to catch the half changed were cub before he reached Erica’s eyes.  She had moved backwards with alacrity, her mouth falling open with shock, then her own fangs descended and she roared with anger. The little cub couldn’t have cared less but his grandfather’s stern voice calling his name made him change back although the little boy was still enraged and he screamed at the female werewolf “My mommy is my Daddy’s Cat, not you, never you. And you aren't my Daddy’s friends, nasty doggies always try to hurt my Daddy and me. Always”.

Guilty silence met the little boy’s words. Erica paled and allowed her wolf to retreat. She didn’t know what to say to the little boy. She hadn’t meant to upset the kid. Scott moved forward and brushed the back of her head in comfort, her tense shoulders eased a little. John closed his eyes in despair for a few seconds as he hugged the furious little boy tightly, then tried to sooth the little boy.

“Kit, no-one wants to hurt your Daddy or you” and Scott moved closer, his eyes tinged with red as he tried to use his Alpha voice to calm the situation and reassure the little boy. “Little Dude, we aren't nasty doggies, we just want to help you and your Dad”

Kit looked at him in open mouthed irate disbelief. Scott felt the look like a punch to the gut. It was classic Stiles when someone couldn’t follow his logic or did something idiotic instead of listening to him. The kid only needed to face palm and he would be a mini me version of Stiles. Scott hadn’t seen that look for so long, he nearly missed what the kid had to say  
“No you are stupid and nasty” he sniped right back at Scott “I am a Cat. I don’t have to do what you say, and you stink of blood, just like every other nasty doggy that’s tried to hurt us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is up a little earlier than I intended, but that’s a good thing right? Have read it through a couples times and edited it, it’s unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine. Let me know if you spot anything totally outrageously idiotic.(I did I did I did so edited now!!!) Not a cliffy this time, well not a real one. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Just wanted to say that the reaction to this story has been amazing. Thank you all so much. Love all your comments, you are perceptive, amazing wonderful people and I will be responding soon... Would love it if you give me your views on the characters. Are they ok, or too ooc. Suggestions comments gratefully received. xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles stared in disbelief at the two little pink lines on the small white plastic stick he held in his hand until the lines burned themselves into his retinas. The trembling seemed to start deep within his core, right there in his heart, and spread out through his body until it reached all his extremities.  
> He could even feel his goddamn eyelashes shiver.
> 
> The Sheriff and the Alpha have a disagreement. The Sheriff wins.

_Stiles stared in disbelief at the two little pink lines on the small white plastic stick he held in his hand until the lines burned themselves into his retinas. The trembling seemed to start deep within his core, right there in his heart, and spread out through his body until it reached all his extremities._   
_He could even feel his goddamn eyelashes shiver. His heart began to pound, and he was finding it hard to draw breath. No he was not fucking going to have a panic attack, he hadn't had one since, since That Day. He had even capitalised That Day, so that he didn't actually have to think about what happened then. It was enough that he had named and shamed That Day, he didn't need the hi def colour memories and surround sound of his frenetic brain to remind him of the second worst day of his life. He had learnt moving meditation, his body would never stay still enough to just close his eyes and sit there and chant om. The moving mediation had also increased his endorphin levels, he had mostly avoided stressful situation, snort, mostly, so he wasn't going to spoil nearly two years of frigging hard work because of a stupid piece of plastic._   
_A small hitching sob burst free from his compressed lips. This, this right here had the potential for so many goddamn problems, his brain wanted to seize up. How the hell was he going to keep this from escalating? How was he going to keep them safe? He could feel his eyes blur as he continued to stare at those two unmistakable small pink lines._

_He slowly tore his riveted gaze away from the innocuous piece of plastic and looked up at the strangely calm hazel eyes boring into his face. A pale hand cupped his cheek so lovingly before he felt the claws run gently down towards his neck without breaking the skin. The eyes changed to an electric icy blue as they fixated unblinkingly on Stiles, and then the same clawed hand was turned and soft, so very soft fur rubbed back the way the claws had travelled so delicately. Stiles felt the low level purring begin against his collarbone, and he tilted his head back in delighted approval._   
_For a second he forgot about those ominous pink lines and wallowed in that gorgeous familiar feeling of such sheer need to touch, to please, to take. to give, to love that he could barely stop himself from turning and taking those delicate lips with his own, when that sweet husky voice rippled the air so close to his ear, and whispered "Our Baobei"_   
_There was a pause as they both sucked in air as if it was going out of fashion, and then that same sweet voice chuckled, the joy unhidden "You are going to be a Daddy Stiles"_

_"Oh my god, Soo Lin, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god". The manic grin that lit up Stiles face was oddly complemented by the unashamed tears which poured from his eyes as he gazed with adoration into his wife's beautiful smiling face._

Kit and Cub had not been happy when that big stupid red-eyed stinky doggy with the dumb looking face had tried to pick their Daddy up from the bed. Cub had lent Kit his claws and Kit had nearly used them on his Grampa in his fury, but it was Cub doing the hissing in Kit's throat at all of the stinky doggies. Kit had leapt on to the bed and crouched over his Daddy daring one of them to come near. He knew how close Cub was and they would be real sorry if Cub came out again.  
They were all grumbling and growling at him as if what they wanted was important, not what Kit wanted or his Daddy wanted. Kit didn't listen, Kit wasn't even listening to his Grampa at that point, they were all too close to his defenceless Daddy and his Daddy had told him that they weren't to be trusted. No stinky Doggy person was to be trusted, he had learnt that lesson when he was a tiny baby.

It was only when his Grampa made them all shut up and get out of the cabin that Kit could start to calm down. Kit was a little bit worried in case his Grampa was real angry with him and his tummy felt a bit icky thinking about it, but he knew he had to look after his Daddy.

Grampa slammed the door on the grumbling Doggies, he could still hear Red eye try to order his Grampa to do things the way he wanted, but Grampa had just told him to get a grip of himself, that they were frightening his grandson, so Scott needed to calm down. Ha, even the stupid Doggy's name was stupid. Scotty Doggy

Kit's worried amber eyes were looking right at him, his face going from tearful to determined and back again as if he couldn't make his mind up about how he felt, even while he still stubbornly protected his comatose father. The Sheriff drew in a deep breath. He knew how the kid felt. He was just acting on instinct now too. God, he had seen that expression a thousand times before. It brought the memories flooding back. Kit was the image of his father as a little boy, Claudia would have been enchanted. She would have covered that little one's face in kisses and then started on their son's until she had him squirming in embarrassed delight.  
He slowly and carefully sat at the head of the bed besides his exhausted unconscious son, one swift glance down at his slack sleeping face, and a gentle stroke through that long hair before he swung back towards his anxious grandson.

"It's alright sweetheart, everything's alright now. Come to Grampa, I think a cuddle is what we both need right now, and then we will get everything sorted" His voice was soothing and firm, no hesitation even if he didn't have a clue what was going on. Kit was the important one now that he knew his Stiles was at least not hurt or dying. He held out his arms patiently until Kit finally relaxed his rigid stance and flew towards him with a sob.

John L Stilinski felt like the luckiest bastard in the world. He had an armful of adorable grandson and his boy, his beautiful son was home. Unconscious yeah, but the little shit was breathing and not knowing if that was still a fact had cost him more than one sleepless night over the last seven years. He had his boys' home and he would do everything in his power to make sure that's where they stayed. Stiles might have got his eyes from his mother, but his infernal stubbornness was purely a Stilinski trait. It was way past time that he was reminded of that fact. Whatever or whoever Stiles was running from was going to have a pretty welcome if they dared to show their faces in Beacons Hill. The wolfish grin that the Sheriff directed towards his unaware son would have made any of his Were pack mates shiver in apprehension.

 

The Sheriff stared at his young Alpha in disbelief. "Scott have you taken leave of your senses?" he asked incredulously. Scott flushed bright red, but before he could speak, the Sheriff continued his voice rising with the beginnings of anger "Seriously Scott? You seriously think taking Stiles and Kit to the pack house on the preserve is even an option?"

Scott's face hardened "It's the only way we know they will be safe, it's warded by Lydia, and the pack will be able to protect them, we will have advance warning of anything coming for them there. Derek and I both think..."

"Oh and we know all know how well the last time you and Derek put your heads together about Stiles worked out don't we Scott" the Sheriff growled with the beginnings of real anger.  
Before Scott could respond, he held up his hand and continued bitingly "Did you feel the strength of the wards around the cabin Scott? Even for me it felt like I was having to wade through a ton of mud to get through that barrier. That was Stile's doing when he was exhausted and nearly unconscious and with all due respect to Lydia, she was never as strong magically as Stiles. And bottom line Scott, he doesn't want to deal with the pack."

"He came back for our help John!" Scott insisted stubbornly. "No son" the Sheriff contradicted quietly and sadly "He taught his little boy my telephone number for use in a life or death emergency only, he ordered Kit to stay away from you and the pack. Do you think it had escaped my notice that it was the little lad that rang even though they are so close to Beacon Hills? If Stiles had been conscious he would never had contacted me, we wouldn't even have known he was here."  
The open pain in the older man's face made Isaac whine in support and Boyd rubbed a large hand over the Sheriff's shoulder in silent comfort. Then the Sheriff opened his eyes and stared shrewdly at his Alpha. "There is also the fact that you get to keep an eye on Stiles in case he's a danger to the pack, isn't that right Scott?" Scott's face looked older, harder and sterner. He didn't deny the Sheriff's words, "We don't know why he is back, and we already had to kill an Omega who was trying to get to Stiles and the kid. We have to know if he is a risk to the pack John" he admitted calmly.  
"You didn't learn your lesson last time Scott?" John asked bitterly, but got no satisfaction from the flinch the Alpha was unable to hide, as Derek's hard voice repeated the question back at him "Did you John?"  
The Sheriff flashed him a look that should have seared him to the very bone. "I've fucking learnt mine Derek, it might have taken me seven long years to prove it to him but I have definitely learnt it" Most of the werewolves eyes widened. The Sheriff never used bad language.

There was a bitter judgemental silence until Cora bluntly told them "This angst fest is all well and good Guys but Stiles and Kit need somewhere to stay. Make up your minds already. We got to get moving soon before we attract even more attention for Christ sake".

The Sheriff started moving towards the police vehicle that held both his prone son and his little grandson

"What are you going to do if he is a risk to the pack Scott?" John asked coldly, not looking at the Alpha. It was no surprise when he didn't get a response to the question. He doubted that Scott even knew the answer to it himself, but it did reinforce his decision.

"No Scott, they are staying with me, when Stiles wakes up, he will be in his own home, and that's final. If you need to make arrangements to ensure that he isn't a risk that's fine but the first thing he sees is not going to be the old Hale house."

 

Bright sunlight flickered across the face of the sleeping man. He groaned and slowly turned his face into the pillow to avoid the irritation. He didn't see the quiet observer in the corner of the room pick his head up from the book he had been reading and stare intently at the prone figure. It was the first time in three days that the sleeping man had even moved, let alone made a sound. They had got to the point where those waiting for him to awaken were considering a drip to keep him hydrated.  
The book was put quietly to rest on the small bookshelf besides the chair that had been the resting place for the people who had kept watch over the sleeping man in their allocated shifts. The chair was far enough away from the bed not to upset the fiery little boy who had insisted on sharing the s bed with his father.

Derek quietly left the room to inform the rest of the household that Stiles was waking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Baobei is mandarin for Baby ( In the world according to Google)but if it is wrong more than happy to change it.  
> The italics are for flashbacks  
> Hope you enjoy let me know what you think xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles woke to an empty room. His fully restored magic had woken him gently, bringing him up through the layers of consciousness until he was completely awake. Bright sunlight seared his eyes and for a moment the room was featureless and indistinct. Where was his son? Where was his Kit, his Cub, his baby boy? Adrenaline flooded his body on a tidal wave of fear, but strangely his magic was slow to react. What the hell? He couldn’t tell where he was or where his son was, and his heartbeat reacted to the chemical explosion of the adrenaline in his blood stream and began to pound until it was almost painful. 
> 
> Stiles is awake then he goes downstairs. Warning, he is not nice in this chapter. In fact its fair to say he is an absolute little shit when he meets up with some of the pack. Vengeance thy name is Stiles.

Stiles woke to an empty room. His fully restored magic had woken him gently, bringing him up through the layers of consciousness until he was completely awake. Bright sunlight seared his eyes and for a moment the room was featureless and indistinct. Where was his son? Where was his Kit, his Cub, his baby boy? Adrenaline flooded his body on a tidal wave of fear, but strangely his magic was slow to react. What the hell?  He couldn’t tell where he was or where his son was, and his heartbeat reacted to the chemical explosion of the adrenaline in his blood stream and began to pound until it was almost painful.  The snarl on his lips was as vicious as any seen on a cornered and hurt wild predator, his fingers beginning to move in swirls and dips as his rage and uncertainty finally seemed to trigger his magic, the power pulsing behind his skin waiting for the opportunity to unleash its force in the protection of his son, the only living being that mattered to him now, the only one he would allow to matter.

He drew a deep sustaining breath as finally his eyes adjusted to the light and he recognised the room. God damn it the exhalation of air that left his lungs and flew out of his mouth was not relief just because he knew where he was. The suspicion and rage did not leave but they levelled off and calmed, as he remembered snatches of a conversation with his young son, and then nearly shooting his own father under the impression he was yet another illusion Koi had created to slow them down, before the healing sleep of his magic had forced him to submit to the long needed rest.  
He remembered that Kit was with his father. Kit who had been named for the man because his beautiful gentle wife had fixed him with that unblinking sometimes terrifying blue eyed stare  and told him that the naming of their children was the prerogative of the tigress in the mated pair and she knew what she wanted. Did he have a problem with that? She had asked kindly as she ran a decidedly clawed finger over the front of his trousers and Stiles had perhaps, maybe, almost certainly mewled in a manly, totally completely utterly masculine way and agreed totally, completely, utterly in a thoroughly non cowardly manner.  
The fact that he would be damned before he used that name himself was something he diplomatically forgot to mention, his child would get used to using a nickname just like Stiles had. Soo lin had decided that naming the boy Linden was only right and proper, showing respect to Stiles parents so his beautiful, stubborn Snow had refused to call her baby son anything else, and had scowled at him trying not to laugh when Stiles had insisted on calling him Kit. “Damn it Stiles, he’s a Were Tiger Cub not a house cat, he is not a kitten” she had complained loudly and often, and had refused to talk to Stiles for a day when he had crowed his triumph after overhearing her calling the baby Kit. God she had been adorable when she was angry, God she had been adorable full stop and he missed her so fucking much.  
  
Her Linden, his Kit, their baby boy would be safe with his grandfather, if Stiles trusted him with nothing else, he could always count on that, his father would not hurt a child. He could betray his own son without hesitation the bastard but he would keep his grandson physically safe at least which was why he had ensured that his young child learn the telephone number. Stiles had made it a game but a persistent one so that Kit knew the damn thing off by heart. Even though Stiles had no intention of ever seeing his father again, he had made sure that in the event of his own untimely demise or incapacitation his son would be protected by someone who understood the supernatural world and wasn’t a bloody hunter or a damn were. For now Kit was safe with his grandfather, and if they were in trouble, he would have felt Kit’s fear and pain. They might not be pack the way the Wolves understood but the bond forged when he had mated Soo Lin, his beautiful gracious Snow, had also enveloped and surrounded their baby boy. His magic always knew if the little one was afraid or upset and he could only felt the contentment of a happy little cub. The tension in his body eased a little further, now his first priority was had been covered, he needed to know what was waiting for him when he left his old bedroom.  
  
He allowed the rising power to change its focus, sending it to seek information on the other occupants of the building, whisper silent and smooth.

He lay quietly, unmoving, on the bed, only his eyes swept the familiar space. It had not changed. It was still the same as the day he had finally left, even his lacrosse stick still propped up by the wardrobe. Had the damn man even changed the sheets on the bed? He nearly snorted with dark amusement but he remained still, and silent. A deliberate act which would astonish those he had grown up with. His stillness would allow his magic to remain focused on its task. He knew to his cost how his magic became distracted if he did, so he had learned, with blood, sweat and tears but he had learned.

He had fought to learn how to control his mind, his body, his bloody chattering tongue and he had succeeded, with his darling Snow’s help he had overcome the bane of his childhood with sheer bloody minded stubbornness and a lot of magical training. He could do it whilst he was using his spark but his body, mind and mouth still betrayed him at other times. But he could stop it when it mattered.  
  
Nothing had changed in this damn room, nothing despite the fact that there was no dust. His father falling back on the same old pattern of behaviour, not leaving his comfort zone of refusing to deal with his emotions properly. He would bet his life that his mother’s sewing room was still the same as it was the last day she managed to walk unaided into it. In the nine years after she died his father had refused to change anything, why the hell would he have done it in the seven years Stiles had been away? Bitter amusement flooded his gut. He had been almost as bad, not touching his mother’s shrine. It was only the necessities of the life he now led with his own son that made him relinquish that pathetic need to hang onto things, as if material things could ever compensate for the loss of a loved one.  
  
When they had lost Soo Lin, Stiles and their son had fled with little more than was on their backs and Stiles little box of magic tricks. Their belongings had been already packed and in storage because they had been warned that they had been found again and it was time to move on. But Stiles didn’t need her dearly loved and treasured little collection of antique Chinese teapots or the jade pin that always adorned her hair, the very first present he had ever bought for her, to remind himself of how much he had loved her and what he had lost when she had been ripped from them by those murdering animals. He had a little boy with his mother’s smile, sweet loving heart and intensely protective nature. He had the image of her face buried so deep in his heart when he watched their son sleep, the first expression of wondering awe and adoration she had worn when Kit had been born. He had the feel of her fur against his skin when their little one allowed Cub out. He had Cub with his mother’s rare blue grey fur and luminous ice blue eyes. And he had stories, words, songs that his little boy demanded in remembrance of his mother. Not a pained echoing silence that would ultimately weaken the spirit and bruise a young heart enough until betrayal was not even a surprise. His baby boy was so much more important than a still and silent sewing machine or a lacrosse stick that had never seen much use anyway, more important than a job, and more important than a bottle to drown his own sorrows in, and damn it he would never stop showing his  child that.

He felt the rush of blood to his head, even though he was horizontal, which always heralded the return of his seeking magic. It whispered of the souls which waited for him below, but not of his child and not of his father. His Kit was not in the room with those members of the Beacon Hills pack who were downstairs, which although distressing as Stiles was desperate to see his boy, but this, his son’s absence fell in line with what Stiles had to do next.  There were five members of the Beacon Hills pack downstairs, four Weres and one human. He wasn’t even particularly curious as to which combination of Weres and humans, he would find out soon enough.  
It had been his intention to never come into contact with the treacherous bastards ever again despite the need for vengeance that he could almost still taste on his tongue. If he had to deal with them then it would be best if his little one was not there to witness anything that Stiles might need to do to reinforce his message to the interfering nosey mutts. Stiles and his son were off limits if they valued their own health and safety.  And as Kit was not there, Stiles was in no hurry to actually face them. They could wait until he had showered and dressed. God he smelt disgusting, and although he wasn’t above using a Weres sense of smell against them as a psychological weapon, he did after all have his Kit and his sensitive little nose to think about, even his own nostrils were scrunching together in self-defence.

 

None of them had heard him come down the stairs, fully dressed and once again fully protected by the wards in his clothes, both clean from the shower and cleansed from the last remnants of the dark struggle he and Kit had faced barely a week before. His unheralded, unnoticed appearance was exactly how Stiles wanted it. He stood at the entrance to the living room studying them for long moments feeling nothing, it was interesting purely from the point of view of furthering his own knowledge of course, but there was only a void where once there had been pack, affection and belonging.

It was Derek who raised his head and drew in a deep shuddering breath. That was also Interesting, something he could possibly use to his advantage. He had thought it might be Scott who had scented him first but when had Scott ever lived up to his expectations? Stiles thought with brief bitter amusement.  
Cora bless her cold and cynical heart was still staring moodily out the window no doubt wondering why the hell Stiles was back now,  and trying not to look at her big brother, who had been lounging on the sofa looking aimlessly at the flickering pictures of the almost silent news channel on the large screen TV. The smile that crossed Stiles lips when the Weres finally realised that he was there was infinitely mocking and unnervingly satisfied.

  
Isaac had been standing near the kitchen counter sipping the coffee that Scott’s Mom, Melissa had started to make once Scott had told her Stiles was out of bed and in the shower.  She had made sandwiches because she was sure the boy would be starving after his three day sleeping session, and had threatened Scott and his betas with a wooden spoon to get them to leave them alone for Stiles. Dear God she could barely believe it, the boy was back and with his own son.  
When she had found out what the idiots had done to Stiles, what her own son had done to the boy who had been as close as a brother to him, then she had refused to speak or see any of them for months until Scott had been brought into Emergency with a wound from some goddamn supernatural monster or another.

After Stiles had fled, after he had been chased away because of his former pack, they had fallen into an almost desperate fight against every damn supernatural creepy crawly that the siren song of the Nemeton had attracted to the area.  
  
Once she had been assured that her son wasn’t going to die she had made to leave the room and continue with her duties but when Scott had begged her to stay with him she had asked him coldly if he now realised what Stiles had felt like and then left him alone with his damn pack. Derek Hale had followed her and tried to get her to go back but she told him in no uncertain terms what she thought of all of them, knowing they could all hear her. It had taken nearly a year for her to forgive her own son enough to actually agree to speak to him, and another year before she allowed any of them in her house. She had left Scott’s belongings in the front yard the very day she had found out what they had done, changed the locks and gone to Alan Deaton for wolvesbane to line her windows and doors. He had tried to make her change her mind, but she only needed to slap his inscrutable face the once for him to understand how serious she was. There were days still when she would look at them laughing and joking about some pack business and her heart would hurt because there was someone missing, the flailing arms and wicked tongue, that sharp pale sweet face and kind but so clever amber eyes and she literally had to leave the room. Scott knew, his face would darken and his eyes were angrily guilty but he never dared to challenge her on her behaviour. He still wasn’t sure of her reactions.

Melissa was deep in her own thoughts when she noticed the tension hit the pack. She turned around and saw him standing in the doorway. The wolves looked disconcerted as if they hadn’t heard him arrive but that was impossible right. They had heard him get up and take a shower, why would they have not heard him come downstairs? But all of them were looking at him as if he had just appeared out of thin air.  Melissa dismissed it as unimportant, she was more interested in looking at her other boy. Because goddamn it Stiles had been her boy too. Before Claudia had died, that kid had wound himself around her heart like a particularly stubborn vine, he and Scott had been adorable together, and afterwards when he and the Sheriff tried to deal with their loss she had tried so hard to give him the unobtrusive mothering he needed. She had babysat, fed, comforted, encouraged and loved that child with everything she had. Scott was her heart but Stiles, Stiles had a piece of her soul.

He looked taller, more muscular, and there was an aura of danger about him as if very little would stop him if he made his mind up to do something.  He was still lithe and lean but there was power in those shoulders now, shoulders covered in a deep red linen collarless tunic and strength in those long legs encased in black leather. But the trousers did not look like a fashion statement, if she didn’t know better they looked like protective armour, snug and leaving very little to the imagination but definitely protection. There were embossed patterns in the leather itself, some were repeating but other random designs that looked oddly like runes.  Now that she had noticed the patterns in his trousers, she saw the same faint patterns in gold thread along the hem, cuffs and collar of the red tunic.  
His hair was the most startling, the last time she had seen him he was just growing out his buzz cut but now, his hair was long, a sleek black waterfall to his shoulders with that streak of silver. She winced at the sight, something bad had happened to create that solid block of silver.  Then her breath caught and tears filled her eyes as she saw his face. The scar just under his left cheek bone looked like Chinese writing and he was pale, too pale even for Stiles, the bags under his eyes so prominent. When had the poor boy last actually rested and slept properly?

Years of anger, pain and fear fell away and suddenly Melissa was angry, she was absolutely furious, she had given her son and his pack hell for what they did to Stiles but Stiles hadn’t come back. Not one word, not a letter, not a phone call, it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. If he didn’t want to talk to them or his father he could have at least let her know he was still alive. Did she mean so little to him? How dare he not let her know he was safe? It hurt so damn much that he hadn’t bothered.

She didn’t even realise that she was there right in front of him until she felt the impact of the slap she had delivered to his face. “Do you know how worried I was about you, you couldn’t even let me know you were alive Stiles, what about your father you selfish, selfish little shit?” The words were an angry hurt heartfelt sob and the room fell silent.  She raised her hand, the one she had slapped him with to her mouth as if she couldn’t believe what she had done. God, she didn’t know if she wanted to apologise and kiss him or slap him again. She didn’t notice that after the first shock of his arrival that Scott had moved towards Stiles with that hopeful tentative expression he had always used when he wanted something but was never sure he was going to get it. There was a softness to his face that only his pack and his mom ever saw these days.

The rest of the pack were shocked into stillness as if they didn’t know what to do, Stiles turned his face back to look at Melissa, the clear red handprint on his cheek did not take away from the blankness in his amber eyes. He studied her calmly and something cold and dark forced its way down her spine. There was no babble of words or angry flailing to meet her actions, simply an ominous calmness as those cold eyes bore into hers.

“Don’t ever do that again Mama McCall” the words were also calm but the underlying threat was loud and clear. Low snarling and rumbling growls met the threat and his full lips quirked up in a cold smile, as something deadly flashed through those beautiful whiskey eyes. Scott’s eyes had flashed red, his Alpha power manifesting in the room as he felt the menace directed at his mother, but as he moved with supernatural speed to protect her, his snarl terrifying, he still wasn’t fast enough. Stiles flicked his right wrist towards the Alpha and suddenly Scott crumbled against the wall where he had been flung, his breath leaving his mouth as if it had been punched out, agony in his face as he stared down at his belly in disbelief where a shining dagger was buried in his gut. Stiles had not taken his gaze from Melissa’s pale horrified face while she saw the blood pouring through her son’s hands, and repeated this time with amusement “Really Melissa, don’t do that again. There are consequences when someone strikes out at me now. I am not as forgiving as I was. Getting old I guess. Now anything to eat in this place?” he finished with a cheerful indifference  to the mayhem he had caused that shocked the rest of the people in the room to the core.

“Stiles” Melissa whispered almost pitifully before she rushed to her son’s side, shouting frantically for someone to get the first aid kit. Stiles watched her with an almost fond smile that made Derek shudder. It was too reminiscent of Peter at his worst. What the hell was wrong with Stiles? He had always had a ruthless streak but this was on a different level, this was fucking psychotic.

Instinct made the Weres take their beta forms and surround him to attack. But when Stiles only stood there and stared at them, one eyebrow raised in contempt, they heard their Alpha order them in a trembling voice to stand down. Isaac and Cora stepped back reluctantly but Derek was vibrating with a volatile brew of emotions and his Alpha would need to roar that order at him to get him to move away from Stiles

 “Fucking hell Stiles” Derek spat, still in full beta mode and Stiles actually laughed. Melissa tuned her head from her injured son and stared at him as if he was insane.

“You are right there Dude, it was hell. We only did it the once but your technique sucked Der Bear. Way, way too angsty darling for a good shag and not even good enough for a quick one, hope you have managed to improve over the years, or you’ll have to go further and further away from the Beacon to find anyone interested despite your pretty face and hot bod” Stiles responded cheerfully and ignored the strangled horrified sounds that Isaac and Cora didn’t seem to be aware of making. Derek’s eyes widened and he took a faltering step back. Stiles wasn’t lying, his heart beat was steady. He winced with shame and the pain of losing a long hidden pathetic hope. Stiles would never forgive them, never forgive him for what happened that day, but he had at least thought… He took another step away from Stiles and his face returned to the same old granite featured grumpy Sourwolf that Stiles had dealt with all those years before. Stiles smile widened but his eyes grew even colder. Three down and one to go. Melissa had been an unfortunate casualty. She was the only one he had any time for, but the opportunity had been too good to miss, and what did it matter if she never spoke to him again. He and Kit were leaving and never coming back. Now Cora he didn’t give a shit about, he hadn’t known her well enough or trusted her to feel any pain at her part on their betrayal. But sweet butter wouldn’t melt little bad boy Isaac was so next in the line for feeling the joy at the return of the prodigal son.

That smiling face surveyed the bristling agitated Weres with a disturbing calm indifference.

“First and only warning for some old friends” the mocking contempt in the word friends made more than one person in the room shudder.  “I know your weaknesses, I know all your weaknesses, I know how you fight and I know how you think. I will destroy you if you even so much as blink at me or my son the wrong way. Now get out of this house and stay away until we have left. “

He walked towards the kitchen through the furious Weres as if they weren’t even there until surprise fucking surprise he was halted by an enraged Isaac standing in front of him.  
“You knifed Scot” Isaac hissed in disbelief, his claws and fangs visible. Stiles turned that frightening smiling gaze on the blonde beta. “Isaac, still the sweet vicious little puppy huh? But the years have so not been kind to you have they? Scott still not boning you? Never mind, I am sure you can find a Daddy to look after you eventually.” His width of his smile was growing proportionately to the paler the paler the Beta’s cheeks grew.

He inclined his head towards the horrified Were and mock whispered “All your weaknesses Darling”, then straightened and his smirk grew even brighter as he consoled with false sympathy  
“Don’t worry so Puppy, Scotty will be just fine, not as fine as if I had stabbed him in the head or heart because there’s nothing in either of those areas to hit but the blade didn’t have any wolvesbane in it, oops might have been silver though, which will sting a teeny tiny bit when his body tries to expel it, but hey he’s the big bad Alpha, he’ll recover, he’s had to recover from so many things since he was bitten, including betraying his best friend, so he’ll be just fine”

Stiles patted the stunned Were’s head consolingly and once again moved towards the kitchen. Damn it he was going to get something to eat at some point today. He was no longer interested in the people in the room with him. He had told them what he expected, if they didn’t listen that was their problem, and he had so enjoyed seeing their faces when he twisted the knife, literally in Scotty Dog’s case. He sniggered to himself tempted to share his witticism but somehow he didn’t think they would appreciate it.

Scott raised his head, staring at the blood on his hand in stunned disbelief as he listened to Stiles stab and flay his Betas with his words rather than an actual knife. Damn he wasn’t sure which was hurting the most, the words or weapon then rage flooded him. What the fuck was the matter with him, Scott knew that Stiles would be upset but this was too far. “You get one freebie Stiles” Scott’s growl was deep and powerful “but if you ever do that again…” Stiles cut him off, he still didn’t bother to look at him as if he wasn’t worth his effort “Don’t worry Dude, I won’t do that again” he paused and all the amusement drained from his voice, until it was a statement of cold fact “if you are ever stupid enough to come near me again, I will kill you” he promised simply then the cold mockery was back in his voice “Guess you better get your affaires in order and say your goodbyes Dude, because you are just that stupid aren't you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warned you. Little shit alert was alerted. Next chapter, the rest of the pack and his Dad, will be subject to the Stilinkski awesomeness ( or in my head vindictive little shit part deux). Let me know what you think. 
> 
> Thank you all for commenting and the kudos and even just reading this. Means a great deal and I hope you enjoy this chapter xx


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit hadn’t wanted to leave his Daddy in Grampa’s house all alone with those nasty doggies. But his Grampa made him some lovely pancakes for breakfast, and then when they had finished eating, when Grampa was wiping the syrup away from Kit’s squirmy face, Grampa asked if Kit would go to Grampa’s office with him for a few hours. Grampa had seen the look on Kit’s face, and he had taken a big breath and asked Kit to trust him, then he had looked really, really, really sad and hurt when Kit had hesitated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to all you lovely people for the long delay in updating. Unfortunately I had to undergo a long period in hospital due to a stupid little virus affecting my heart. Home now but still recovering. I am updating my stories slowly (oh so awfully slowly!) so must ask for your indulgence. This chapter is a little different to the one I had planned but honestly, I have had way too much angst in my own life for the last wee while to actually do it justice in this story at the moment and my soul craved some kitty cat fluff, however when you read it there still is a dash of angst to season the fluff. Hope you enjoy and forgive my tardiness. Next chapter definitely has more angst but we won't get to the showdown between Stiles and his Dad until probably the one after that. Again no infringements intended, just playing in someone else's world.

 

Kit hadn’t wanted to leave his Daddy in Grampa’s house all alone with those nasty doggies. But his Grampa made him some lovely pancakes for breakfast, and then when they had finished eating, when Grampa was wiping the syrup away from Kit’s squirmy face, Grampa asked if Kit would go to Grampa’s office with him for a few hours. Grampa had seen the look on Kit’s face, and he had taken a big breath and asked Kit to trust him, then he had looked really, really, really sad and hurt when Kit had hesitated.   
Kit trusted Daddy, he wanted to trust Grampa but he wasn’t sure if he could trust him properly yet, because Grampa had Doggies in his house. It was so confusing. But he had taken his Grampa’s hand finally, and his Grampa had given him the same smile that Daddy used when he was happy. Kit liked that smile, it made him feel warm and safe. It felt the same way as one of Daddy’s cuddles.

But it had not stopped Kit from turning to look at that horrid red-eyed Doggy who was sitting in the lounge with his smelly pack as he and his Grampa moved towards the front door, and letting Cub out to hiss with a flash of angry ice blue eyes glaring up at him. “Don’t you dare hurt my Daddy you stinky mutt”.

Kit felt his Grampa’s hand tighten and the cross warning in his voice. “Kit”, his Grampa began to scold but that blonde lady doggy he really didn’t like, the one who had called herself his Daddy’s Catwoman, and who was sitting on the lap of the biggest hugest quietest werewolf Kit had ever seen interrupted with a growl

“Little Robin I am seriously getting pis… er fed up of being called stinky”

Scott drew in his breath at the gleefully malicious smirk that lit up Kit’s small face. It was so utterly and completely Stiles that it felt like a physical punch to the gut.   
Before Erica could continue, the smile fell off that expressive little face and Kit looked at them with utter disdain. “You smell bad, like liars, like meanies, like all W…werewolves” He said simply, struggling over the last word and then deliberately turned away from them with his face set in the same Stilinski stubborn pout that none of them had seen for over seven years.

His Grampa crouched down in front of him, his face all frowny “Linden Stilinski” he began, his voice stern in a way that made Kit feel a bit squirmy in his tummy and a bit scared but then he was distracted as he realised what his Grampa had said.   
Kit was confused “Who’s Linden Stilinski?” he asked, his brown eyes wide with interest, “My big name is Linden Ashby”. He looked at the tall uniformed man beside him and frowned when he saw another flash of hurt cross the older man’s face.

Kit couldn’t help himself, he leant forward and rubbed his cheek against his Grampa’s bristly one, a soft little purr trying to sooth as he also raised a hand and patted his Grampa’s face gently, wondering what had hurt his Grampa this time but before he could ask, the big scowly eyebrow Doggy standing in the entrance to the kitchen answered Kit’s question in a very calm voice.

“Your Grandfather’s name is Stilinski, and your father’s name is Stilinski, therefore you are a Stilinski too”

The look the Were Cub directed towards him should have shrivelled Derek on the spot, but oddly it made the big Werewolf smile instead. The little boy narrowed his eyes at him in surprise for a second, the Doggy’s smile looked kind and amused, not like any of the fake nasty greedy smiles he had seen from other Doggies. Kit turned his nose up in the air and shrugged his little shoulders then turned back to his Grampa. “I’ll ask Daddy” he stated, making it sound like a threat and didn’t see the quick grins which were exchanged between the Alpha and the rest of the wolves, or the way John repressed his own smile at the child’s behaviour.   
Kit had clearly shown he wasn’t going to take any Doggies word for it, and he wasn’t completely sure about his Grampa although he truly wanted to be.

Kit sat patiently in his Grampa’s office at the police station. The little boy was once again wearing his colourful Robin t-shirt, blue jeans and his comic book sneakers. Whilst his father still lay in that deep unmoving sleep, the Sheriff had found out exactly how stubborn the young boy was with regard to his clothes.    Little Kit was quite happy to be naked if he couldn’t wear exactly what he asked for, and although there were no tantrums, the little boy managed to dodge and weave and evade his human Grandfather, staying out of reach for anything other than the clothes he wanted.   
No doubt his pack mates could have caught the mischievous little monkey but John had stopped any attempt to help by the Werewolves who had congregated in the house taking shifts whilst waiting for Stiles to waken. It upset the little boy too much if they came near to him and damn that child had been traumatised enough by them all, his Grandfather included, since they had found the pair of them. So John Stilinski was determined that he was going to be the sole carer for his grandson until Stiles was back in the land of the upright and conscious.   
It had been quite some time since the Sheriff had had to chase a giggling child around the house. Dear Lord the little one reminded him so much of his own hyperactive little terror at that age.   
He was so grateful that Stiles hadn’t also been a supernatural creature. John wasn’t sure that he would have survived Stiles’s childhood with his sanity intact if he had been.   
Finding his tiny grandson crouched in the space between the ceiling and the wall cabinet in the kitchen with a stubborn and determined grin on his face because he refused to wear the clothes John had put out for him had nearly stopped John’s heart there and then. Cholesterol levels be damned.  
The term herding cats or in this case one little werecat had never been so ironic or deeply felt.   
It also allowed the Sheriff no space to think about what was going to happen when Stiles did eventually wake up. Something for which he was absurdly grateful. He was determined to make things right with his boy, somehow, anyway he could, but the little voice at the back of his mind that told him Stiles would never forgive him, that he would take his little boy and disappear again and that he deserved it, kept him from sleeping properly. Looking after Kit forced him into the present moment and silenced that vicious little voice.  
The Sheriff had been relieved to discover that Stiles had taken the path of least resistance regarding the child’s clothes and actually bought multiples of Kit’s favourites. He had seriously considered resorting to washing the outfit every night before he had found the sanity saving stash of clothes.  
    
Kit had enjoyed the trip into town in the Cruiser with his Grampa. He had let him play with the buttons and even put the siren on once to make Kit laugh. He had told him to speak to the lady on the radio and tell her that the Sheriff was bringing in his new deputy and to get a badge ready for him. Kit didn’t stop smiling all the way. When his Grandfather pulled into the station car lot, he had picked Kit up and laughed really hard when Kit asked him if he carried all his Deputies. The nice lady on the front desk had shaken his hand, called him Deputy Kit and given him a really shiny gold badge that she pinned to his Robin t-shirt. Kit kept looking at it with awe. He really wished he could show Daddy right this very minute. It was so cool.

Grampa then introduced Kit proudly to every officer in the station, and one had sneaked candy into his hand with a wink when his Grampa’s back was turned. But his Grampa had known anyway and mock growled “Deputy Parrish, you will be paying for his next dental visit”.

 None of the Doggies were there but he could smell them at some of the empty desks as his grandfather took him to his office. 

Kit’s little legs couldn’t reach the ground whilst he was on the office chair but he didn’t care. He could swing them and that was fun, especially when he was balanced right on the edge of the chair and he had that swoopy tickly feeling in his tummy that felt like he would fall. Then his Grampa would make him move back in the seat to try to sit properly but Kit was clever and sneaky and he was a cat so it was fun trying to find out how long it would take his Grampa to notice when he got back to the edge of the chair again. His Grampa pretended to look cross but Kit could see the laughter in his kind eyes every time he spotted what Kit was doing.

But Grampa finally decided that it had to stop so he gave him a colouring book and some crayons and pulled his chair to the desk so Kit could work on his drawings beside him. The colouring book was just awesome because it had lots and lots of pictures of Batman and Robin, and Kit didn’t think his Grampa would take it away again if he didn’t want to colour in just yet because he was more interested in watching his Grampa. He was going to pick a really special drawing for his Daddy and make it look so good that it would make his Daddy smile, his proper smile not that fake one that left Kit feeling sad, but right now Kit needed to watch his Grampa. He had to watch Grampa to learn all about him because he was family and Kit liked him, but Kit hadn’t met him before. It was a puzzle. Kit liked puzzles, he liked to learn new things. He didn’t understand why Daddy had never mentioned Grampa, why Kit and Daddy had never come to see him before so he would ask Daddy about it when he woke up. Kit and Daddy didn’t have anyone but each other now and it was nice to have more family. Except for the nasty stinky Doggies, they might be in Grampa’s pack but they weren’t Kit’s family, maybe if Kit scent marked Grampa enough he could get rid of that horrid doggy smell.  
  
Kit was a Cat, just like his Mama had been, and he could be patient for as long as he had to if he was interested in something, and he was interested in his Grampa’s office. It was his Grampa’s territory.  It smelled more like Grampa than the house did. Even though he could still smell Doggies there and in the rest of the building, even though there were also other interesting scents  but the office was mainly his Grampa, and that funny burning smell of that yukky coffee drink Daddy loved and burgers, lots and lots of burgers.   
It seemed like Grandpa spent most of his time in the station office instead of at the house where Daddy was sleeping. That house smelt funny. It had Grampa’s scent, but it was mixed with the Doggies, lots and lots of Doggies, more there than at the Station, which he didn’t like, and there was a sharp bitter burnt wood smell that made him want to sneeze and reminded him of some of the places that Daddy said only grownups could go. Daddy called them Bars.   
  
Upstairs at the house, in the bedroom that he shared with his sleeping Daddy and all that interesting stuff like the funny shaped stick and old, old clothes, there was a faint scent that seemed like Daddy but it was puzzling because it was not his proper scent. His proper scent was the comforting combined one of Daddy and Kit and Cub and Mama, and Mama Cat, even though Mama and Mama Cat were in heaven now, Daddy still smelt of her. But the old Daddy smell in the house didn’t. It was very confusing. But interesting. It was a puzzle, he liked puzzles and he would ask Daddy about it when he woke up. He really wanted his Daddy to wake up soon.  There were many puzzles he wanted to ask him about and he needed his Daddy’s cuddles. Grampa’s cuddles were nice but Daddy’s cuddles were the best. Kit could bury his head against Daddy’s neck and breathe him in knowing he was safe and home and loved.

But now he was in his Grampa’s territory. Kit liked that word, it was a good word and Daddy had taught it to him. He liked the sound it made because the “r” sounds came close to the sound he made when he purred. Terrrrrrrrrritorrrrrrrry. He liked playing with the word. He liked sounding it out, and making his Daddy laugh. He loved making his Daddy laugh. Daddy’s laugh felt like a big soft hand stroking Cub’s fur. It made Kit and Cub both want to purr.  
  
Kit studied the beige room with the blinds on the windows which could hide them from the rest of the big station. There was a picture of the Sheriff, a pretty lady and a little boy in a park on the big desk. Kit stared at it in fascination and his hand stretched towards it. It looked like him in the picture and Grampa looked lots younger. He was smiling such a big smile and so was the pretty lady.   
“Grampa” Kit asked softly. “Is this me?”

The Sheriff raised his head from the computer on his desk, and looked at the little boy staring with fascination at the framed photograph. He smiled at Kit but Kit could see the sadness in his eyes again. Kit reached over and put one small hand on top of the larger one which had picked up the frame. “This Sweetheart is your Daddy when he was a little boy” he said just as softly and then his smile grew wider, he murmured as if to himself “You do look like your Daddy don’t you?”

“But who’s the pretty lady Grampa?” Kit asked not taking his fascinated eyes away from the picture, one little finger stroking gently across the pretty lady’s smiling face. Kit just had to smile back at her.

He raised his little face when he heard the small hitch of breath from his Grampa. Kit was confused, his Grampa went from sad to happy and back again so fast it made his head spin sometimes.

“Didn’t your Daddy show you any pictures of your Grandmother sweetheart?” his Grampa’s voice was slow and serious.  Kit frowned at him “This doesn’t look like my Waipo” he grumbled. Why was Grampa being silly?

There was a pause, and then his Grampa chuckled a little but it sounded a little broken and sad. Kit didn’t know that happy sounds could be sad at the same time. “No little one, your Daddy’s Mommy, that Grandmother.”

Kit looked solemnly up at his Grampa, “Daddy never told me about his Mama or you” he answered bluntly. Then he looked at the picture again, not seeing the flinch flash across the Sheriff’s face.

“She is very pretty, what’s her name? Can I meet her? Will she like me?” he asked hopefully. He liked the pretty lady’s smile and her hair looked like Daddy’s.

Kit looked up at his Grampa with a big hopeful smile when the man didn’t respond to his question. Maybe he was busy with the computer again, sometimes Daddy didn’t hear his questions when he was using the computer too. But Grampa’s eyes were wet, and focused on him the same way Mama Cat used to watch him when Cub was playing with her paws. Kit could feel his smile melting like ice cream on a hot day, and he didn’t know what was wrong. He really didn’t like not knowing what was wrong.

Before he could open his mouth to ask, Grampa took a deep breath and gave him a loving smile.

“Your grandmother’s name was Claudia, and she would have adored you.” He drew a deep breath then continued calmly, “Your grandmother went to heaven a long time ago Sweetheart, when your Daddy was just a little bit older than you are now.”  
“I don’t think I like Heaven, it’s not fair” Kit hissed, he felt angry and sad at the same time. Why should Heaven get his family? He wanted them. He wanted all of them back, even the pretty lady in the picture.

Suddenly he was floating in the air and before Cub could even start to react, Kit was hugged close against his Grampa’s chest. Huh maybe his Grampa had some Cat in him too cos he hadn’t even seen him move. His head rested on Grampa’s shoulder and he breathed in his comforting scent, as he felt his Grampa kiss his head. Kit purred gently and bumped against his Grampa’s jaw and wrapped his arms around his Grampa’s neck, whilst his Grampa began to walk up and down behind his desk, rocking him gently as if he was a little baby. Kit nearly told his Grandfather that he wasn’t a baby, that he was a big boy now but he decided that as Cub seemed to like it, (he could feel Cub purring under his skin) that he wouldn’t spoil it for Cub. Sides Kit kinda liked it too and it was only Grampa and Kit in the room.

As Grampa walked past the big notice board behind his desk. Kit saw another interesting picture. He tilted his head a little so he could see it better.

Kit had really sharp eyes, his Mama and Daddy had told him so, which always made Cub feel happy, Cub liked it when Mama and Daddy noticed what a clever cat he was, and the picture on the notice board looked like his Daddy with really short hair standing smiling with his arm around another smiling boy. Kit opened his eyes wide, he had never seen his Daddy with short hair before.

As he stared at his father with fascinated eyes, Kit could hear his Mama’s voice in his head, she was teasing his Daddy about the length of his hair when they had been on a picnic. She and Kit had braided it for Daddy, with lots of giggles until Daddy whispered something in Mama’s ear and her eyes had flashed iced blue with Mama Cat, then her face had turned a beautiful pink colour before she had giggled again and in retaliation she had threaded some pretty wild flowers into Daddy’s braid. Daddy had grinned at her and worn them all day until they wilted and dropped out. Kit had seen Daddy pick up one of the little flowers and put it into his wallet when Mama wasn’t looking. Daddy had winked at him and put one finger to his mouth then swung Kit high in the air again and again until Mama had made them sit down to eat.

Kit felt his eyes grow wet, and his heart start to hurt, he missed Mama so much and he missed his Daddy. He knew Daddy was just sleeping but it was still scary when he wouldn't wake up.

“Hey Sweetheart, did you see the picture of your Dad on the notice board?” Grampa’s voice came just at the moment when Kit was going to start to cry. Kit nodded his head, not looking up at him. But he could feel the man’s smile in his voice as he continued “Well that’s Stiles with his best friend”

Kit perked up, his tears almost forgotten and stared at the picture again. Daddy did look happy with the other boy who had the same big grin on his face that Daddy had. The other boy looked familiar too, he had dark curly hair, dark kind eyes and the bottom half of his face looked a bit funny. Kit stared at the picture hard “Grampa who’s that?” he began to ask but his Grampa suddenly turned away from the notice board and walked towards the door. “Grampa” Kit tried again but his Grandfather interrupted him. “How about we go and get something to eat Kit? It’s nearly lunchtime and I think Curly fries, a burger and a huge milkshake are just what’s needed right now. I might even share them with you what do you say?”

The Sheriff smiled down at the confused little boy in his arms. He damn well wasn’t getting trapped into trying to explain the relationship between Stiles and Scott to his curious kitten of a grandson.  It took a few seconds but Kit seemed to realise what John had said, and protested loudly at the thought that he wouldn't have his own portion of the delicacies offered. John manfully resisted the urge to grin at the little one’s reaction. Distraction techniques 101 for Stilinski kids. Food, you could always distract them with food and then desperately hope they would forget what they had been obsessed with. It was most often a fickle and false hope, it had only offered a one in ten chance of succeeding with Stiles in his formative years but it would at least buy John some time for him to come up with something that wouldn't set off the kid’s protective instincts and have the little Were cat on the rampage. Kit already didn’t like Scott, God knows what his reaction would be to finding out that he used to be his Dad’s best friend and brother in all but name.

Kit stared at the enormous banana milkshake in front of him while they were still waiting for the food. He wanted to purr but he knew he wasn’t supposed to do that in public, Mama and Daddy had made sure he understood that. So instead he smiled up at his Grandfather who was smiling back at him but Kit could see that his eyes were so sad and almost hungry, as if he was never going to see Kit again.  And suddenly Kit understood one of the puzzles he was going to ask Daddy about.   
It made him sad too. His face became solemn as he lost his smile and stretched his fingers out until they gently stroked his Grampa’s large hand.   
Grampa raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling but it faded away when Kit asked earnestly   
“Why is Daddy cross with you Grampa?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback,   
> Stiles finds out what kind of supernatural being Snow is when they are in a rather compromising position.

_Stiles lovingly caressed the silky dark hair of the head that rested on his bare chest. He was blissfully boneless. He was floating on a wave of sensual satiated hormones that would make him a fortune if he could find a way to bottle it. He could feel his heart rate slow as his sensitive skin absorbed the contented sounds of his partner. God that had been amazing, he didn’t have words to describe it properly. Ha, Stiles Stilinksi silenced by sex. What a way to cure his constant talking. Who knew? No, not just sex (although the alliteration was worthy of poetry even if he said so himself), this was not just sex. Three little letters did not cover the enormity of his feelings right now.  
When he had looked into those spectacular green eyes for the first time, it felt like his heart was slowly splitting into two. How the hell was this even possible? He was so freaking confused. He had never expected this._

_As if his partner heard his thoughts, beautiful serene green eyes were raised to look up at him, solemn loving intensity on the expression directed towards him as fingers gently stroked up the side of his neck towards his lips._

_“Was Derek your first?” Snow asked calmly._

_Stiles eyes widened, a vivid red flushed across his cheekbones as his stricken ashamed look made a small wince cross the beautiful face staring at him. “Soo lin, I’m sorry” he stuttered, his amber eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”_

_Green eyes watched him assessing, still as a cat focused on its prey. Then she smiled, such sweetness on her face that Stile’s heart clenched painfully with an overwhelming cocktail of love and shame and longing and joy_

_“Snow, I …” he began haltingly, he didn’t know what to say, how to make this better. She calmly continued, not taking her eyes away from his. “You whispered his name beloved, under your breath, when you took me, when you closed your eyes.”_

_The horrified look on his face actually made her smile wider, and she stilled his frantic apologies, delicate fingers across his trembling lips, her free hand wiping the spilled tears from his cheeks._

_“I love you Snow” he breathed with desperate agony across her fingertips._

_“I know you do beloved, I know you do” She soothed, those amazing green eyes locked onto amber, as she moved to straddle him, pinning him beneath her, with surprising strength._

_“You have so much love inside you my beloved, why are you ashamed that you love someone else in addition to me. Such a great and loving heart my beautiful Stiles. His loss is my gain, I can be generous and allow him a piece of your heart, when I have the rest of you with me.” Stiles closed his eyes in disbelief, how the fuck had he been blessed enough to cross paths with this beautiful angel. He wasn’t fit to kiss her feet._

_The tone of her voice became amused and slightly mocking as she continued as if inviting him to laugh with her “Besides, Dogs are always idiots”_

_Stiles’ stilled, his heart beat began to pound in his ears, as he slowly opened his eyes._

_“What did you say Snow?” he asked, afraid of the answer, afraid of the blow that was coming, he had misheard her, he must have. This was his darling gentle unassuming Snow. They had nothing to do with the supernatural, not his Snow. He was mistaken._

_“Darling that idiot mutt might not recognise you as his mate but I do, and now you are mine. His loss and my gain. Mine” Soo lin smiled down at him, but this time it was predatory. Her eyes changed, flickered from the soothing green to an unblinking ice blue and she purred. She actually freaking purred._

_Stiles lay unnaturally still, his heart beat frantic “What are you Soo lin?” he barely got the words out of his dry mouth, brain racing for options, fuck, fuck his aconite powder was in his back pack, what other weapons did he have available? Fear and adrenaline flooded his body. He was fucking butt ass naked underneath a fucking Were and he hadn’t known._

_The scent of anger, resentment, uncontrolled magic and grief flooded her nostrils as his aura glowed with his untrained power._

_Soo lin paled “Don’t be afraid of me Stiles, I would never hurt you” and anxious, sad, earnest green eyes were once again staring into amber, but now they were as hard as stone instead of the soft honey hue she so delighted in.  
In the echoing silence she whispered sadly “I love you” and then removed herself from his body and retreated to the armchair next to the bed. She curled up on herself, knees together, head tucked into her arms as she hid herself away from him._

_Stiles had watched her retreat, the weak garish light from the street, flickering shadows on her smooth bare flesh, whilst he was held immobile still in the grip of his fear and anger, his skin itching with his defensive magic. But the soft sound of her sobs nearly broke his heart, and suddenly he didn’t care anymore. Soo lin had not hurt him, had not betrayed him, had not thrown his love, loyalty and friendship back in his face, she had not torn his bleeding heart from his body and laughed at his pain.  His Snow had given herself to him, a first for the pair of them, and she had calmly forgiven the unforgiveable, his use of Derek’s name the first time they had made love. In fact he had betrayed her trust and now he had made her cry and withdraw from him as if she was the one who should be ashamed._

_What the hell was wrong with him? Snow was the best thing that had ever happened to him with no exceptions. Even with Derek, when they had finally come together, it had been more about survival sex rather than anything deeper, tearing more holes into his soul as he recognised it for what was._

_Snow was kind, she was gentle, she was clever and loving and so freaking beautiful she took his breath away. He had spent most of his life crushing on cruel clever beautiful people, first Lydia and then Derek.  His Snow had shown him what true beauty was.  How the hell had he ever got so lucky?_

_He freed himself from the suddenly clinging bed sheets and stumbled naked until he fell to his knees in front of the chair._

_“Snow, Snow  oh God, I am such an idiot, please I don’t care what you are, I know who you are and I love you, I’m sorry, so, so sorry, please, please forgive me” the words were a blurted desperate jumble as he placed his shaking hands on either side of her head and raised her head gently._

_Tears slid down her sweet face, and he leant forwards to kiss them away, murmuring apologies and words of love, until she smiled again, and forgiving green eyes flickered to unblinking ice blue._

_Her voice was deeper as she tried to reassure him, “Don’t be scared beloved, I could never hurt you”, soft words purred against his lips before she pulled back, and climbed off the chair to kneel besides him. Stiles raised his hand to her hair and suddenly there was fur, soft grey and white striped fur, and a freaking huge tiger was rubbing its head against his bare chest and the pleased purr that rumbled from its chest felt like an earthquake. It raised its head and nuzzled its way across Stiles skin until he was collapsed on his back underneath the affectionate were tiger laughing helplessly._

_By the time Soo lin changed back, Stiles was once again a boneless mass beneath her. He had fallen asleep under the rhythmic sounds from the tiger, who was so pleased to have so thoroughly scented her mate and had lain beside him in her desire to protect and keep him safe. He was hers now and no dog was taking him away from her. The tiger had known he was part of a wolf pack since they had met him at the zoo. His scent had been an intriguing mixture of magic, grief, rage and wolf. It was because of that the tiger had allowed Soo lin to follow her instincts, her sweet human was too gentle sometimes and the tiger could not allow anything to happen to her, but there had been something about Stiles that also appealed to the tiger, he would fight to the last claw for those he loved. Besides, knowing Stiles was theirs, the sole focus of their attention, instead of being swallowed up in some mangy wolf pack, depriving said wolf pack of him, made the tiger preen in possessive satisfaction. Stiles was theirs now and the tiger would keep him safe whilst sweet Soo lin would keep him happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy. Wanted to write some back ground to Snow and Stile's story. The way he found out about Snow is important to the story later.   
> Let me know what you think.  
> Thanks for all the wonderful comments and kudos and subscriptions. Season's Greetings all xx


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott tries to question Stiles. The Sheriff comes home with Kit.   
> Stiles is still very very angry. But the Sheriff knows how to push his boy's buttons.  
> (Stiles had to inherit that utter ruthlessness from someone!)

Scott gently pushed his mother away with a soft murmur of comfort. Cora had moved towards him and at his almost imperceptible signal, had drawn a pale faced and shocked Melissa away to sit on the couch. He was fine. Hurt like a bitch but he was an Alpha, he would heal fast enough from the knife wound, that wasn’t the really painful part. Seeing Stiles’s face when he had flung that knife… the gleeful malice and hatred directed at him burned through his gut all the way to his heart in a way the knife could never do.

Jesus he knew he had fucked things up, he knew he had damaged their relationship, fuck he knew he had done it on purpose with the arrogant expectation at the back of his mind that he would be forgiven because Stiles always forgave him but seeing Stiles like this? Seeing how much Stiles hated him, it shattered that tiny little hope inside that he could make things right between them, could apologise, and even grovel so that Stiles would forgive him for his stupidity and that he would finally come home to his pack to stay. He had missed his best friend so much over the years.

He straightened up, there was no time now, he couldn’t afford to dwell on that, he couldn’t afford to grovel and beg his brother to forgive him, he had to find out what kind of trouble Stiles and the kid had brought to his territory and to his pack.

“Why are you here Stiles?” he asked calmly, drawing on the comfort of the pack to keep his voice steady. Stiles didn’t even acknowledge he had spoken, just tucked into the sandwiches his Mom had made as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Damn of course he hadn’t, Scott knew he hadn’t. He had been unconscious for days and God only knew when he and the kid had sat down to eat a proper meal the last time. How had the kid fed himself, what the hell was Stiles playing at leaving the pup vulnerable like that? Scott felt the flare of self-righteous anger trying to burn inside him and red was seeping into his eyes but he reigned it back, he didn’t have the right to do that and he didn’t have all the facts, it was just his guilty conscience trying to find a way to ease itself again. But obviously Stiles had noticed because his expression had just turned as artic as ice.  
The intent expression in those amber eyes sent a frisson of uncertainty through his heart, for a second he was almost afraid to carry on questioning Stiles or even dealing with him.

Scott almost felt grateful when he and the rest of the pack heard the Sheriff’s cruiser pull up outside the house. Perhaps Stiles’ Dad could get through to him. The guy couldn’t hate his own Dad as much as he seemed to hate the rest of the pack could he? And talking about the rest of his pack,  maybe when Ally got back tonight from the trip to Hunter’s Council with her Dad, she would have better luck with Stiles. Stiles had always liked her and she was pregnant, he would have Chris Argent breathing down his neck for allowing her near the obviously powerful and dangerous entity that Stiles had grown into, but Stiles was protecting his own son, he wouldn’t harm a child or a pregnant woman. Scott refused to allow any doubts about that to sink in, fuck it he had known Stiles since they were tiny, there was no way Stiles would or could hurt a pregnant woman, but all the same if Stiles showed any signs of aggression towards his hunter wife and unborn child he would eviscerate him without compunction. The little voice in the back of his mind that questioned if he was strong enough to even get near to Stiles to do that was resolutely ignored. He couldn’t afford to second guess himself on this.

 

Stiles saw the pack perk their ears up, once he would have laughingly called them good little doggies. Now he just didn’t give a shit. He already knew who was in the car pulling up into the drive to park. His magic had alerted him, the loving golden glow which flowed through his blood stream straight to his heart made his eyes gleam for a few seconds. There was only one living being that his magic boned with now. His darling Snow was gone, her parents were gone. The pack had deliberately destroyed any links that he would have nurtured and cared for a long time ago. He ruthlessly cut off the small tingle which had announced his father’s presence. That was so not going to happen. He was not allowing his magic to react to the man. The fact that his magic wanted to do it anyway was starting to piss him off. He had fought hard over the years to gain the level of control he needed to manage his powers, which had grown exponentially as he had received training from the beautiful gentle soul who had been his mother-in-law, as she taught him the powers and parables of the White Tiger of the West. He had sought balance in the life and love that had been gifted to him but none of his beautiful new family had understood that he couldn’t forgive his father. His father was family, family was love and pain was always a part of love, but Stiles had refused to listen. He damn well wouldn’t allow his magic to react like that. Kit was his be all and end all. Only Kit now.

Kit looked up at his Grampa solemnly “Want to go to Daddy now please?” he had asked politely.

The Sheriff smiled sadly down at the little boy, “Honey he is still asleep” but the little boy was shaking his head before his grandfather had even finished his sentence, the sudden smile which lit up his little face was blinding “ Daddy’s awake now”, he stated with a surety that stunned John. “We go to Daddy now” he insisted and he tugged on his grandfather’s hand with a strength that lifted the man from his chair. Kit grinned up at him, and there was Stiles staring at John in that achingly familiar wicked smirk and unapologetic “oops” as the man righted himself and mock scowled at the child. His decision was made for him. He didn’t know why Kit was so sure that Stiles was awake but the sheer need to see his son awake and aware after the long years apart would not let him sit back down again. Well hell, he was going to take the afternoon off to be with his family and mop up the blood from his uniform when Stiles had finished with him. God knew why he was making stupid ass jokes that weren’t even funny. It was a nervous trait he had passed to Stiles, of course he had learnt to not utter them aloud as an adult and a law enforcement officer. It especially wouldn’t have gone down that well with his electorate.  God damn it, he was going to make this right, he was going to find a way for his son to forgive him.

 

The Sheriff took in the frozen tableau of stiff suspicion and anger that inhabited his living room in the seconds it took for him to step through the door in front of his grandson. Melissa looked like she was in shock and wanted to be physically sick, Scott looked constipated with barely concealed rage, Jesus Christ was that blood on the Alpha’s shirt? The Betas all looked like hell, or rather as if they had been dragged through hell, Derek’s expression was back to the façade of imperviousness that had not managed to conceal his man angst all those years and numerous therapy sessions ago. Cora being Cora looked like she was watching and enjoying a particularly vicious and bloody form of sport. What the hell had happened since he had taken Kit to work?

Kit dropped his grandfather’s hand and shrieked with joy as he flew like an arrow across the room to the tall long haired man standing at the kitchen counter.  “Daddy, my Daddy” and suddenly the joyful sounds descended into little whimpers as he leapt into the arms that were waiting for him, and buried his face in his Daddy’s neck. The man gently rocked the trembling child murmuring soothing gentle words of love and reassurance.

John was frozen to the spot with longing as he stared at his son and grandson. He didn’t see the rest of the pack leave the room, he didn’t care, his eyes were burning with unshed tears and his breathing hurt. He walked forward until he stood directly in front of them.  Kit raised his head, put one small hand to his grandfather’s face, as his other hand was clutched in his father’s hair. His solemn eyes flickered between his father and his Grampa. John couldn’t take his gaze away from the sheet of dark hair that covered Stiles’ face which was still tucked protectively over the cub.

Finally Stiles raised his head and looked at his father. The years had been harder on him that he would have thought, after all the man had finally got rid of the hyperactive little bastard who had ruined his life. His fair hair had a few more strands of grey and there were more lines on his face, none of which looked like they had been caused by laughter. His father’s blue eyes were fixed on him with a sad hunger that Stiles refused to acknowledge. Stiles anger burnt in his stomach but he wouldn’t let it out in front of his cub. Kit was already throwing anxious glances between the pair of them, he had brought this upon himself when he had taught Kit that damn number, now he had to deal with it in a way that wouldn’t hurt his son.

Stiles’s eyes widened with shock when his father’s free hand cupped his face. The same way he had for so many years when Stiles needed comforting, the way his Dad used to tell him he loved him without needing to say the words. No just fucking no, he wasn’t having it. He began to move his head back slowly, subtly out of range of his father’s hand in a way that would not distress Kit, when he heard the last words his mother had spoken to him drop from his father’s lips. “Wybacz mi, mój syn”. She had known she was leaving him then and whispered “Forgive me my son” before closing her eyes for the last time.   
  
He watched the slow tears slide from his father’s eyes as he just kept repeating the phrase over and over. Panic filled him. No he didn’t want to forgive him, he didn’t, did the bastard know how he had hurt him, how could he use Mom’s words, how could he? How could he? But Kit’s warm little body anchored him, and his magic could feel the connection between his son and his father, he couldn’t hurt Kit the way his father had hurt him. Why was the old man crying? Snow or Mom would know what to do, he didn’t know. He was still so angry and fucking hurt. Snow? Mom? Thoughts raced through his brain with the same dizzying speed as when he was a kid. His training kicked in and he centred himself to allow his mind to search for an answer. When it came it wasn’t the one he wanted. But he wasn’t going to disappoint his Snow or his Mom.

Stiles felt the hard ball of rage and distrust in his gut crack open and the poison begin to seep out as his Mom’s trembling beloved voice echoed in his head with the last thing she had ever asked him to do. “Zadbaj o swoje tatusia dla mnie”….. The words echoed in his head and his heart. He had tried so hard for so long to do as she had asked.  
  
“Take care of your Daddy for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humblest apologies for the length of time this had taken to update. Have actually written the big showdown with the baddy, which I am so excited about but now have to write the rest of the chapters in between.   
> Just a little hint: Remember the title my dears, but don't worry there is still lots of Bamf Stiles and some pretty awesome arsekicking.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash back to the events that caused Stiles to leave.

Kit was sleeping, curled up under the covers, head buried in his hands, sweet little snuffles the only sound in the silence of the darkened room. The little one had finally succumbed to the feelings of safety and home he had so dreadfully missed whilst his Daddy was unconscious with exhaustion and healing magic.

Kit had not slept properly for a while. Not even when he had been put to bed beside his comatose father, curled up as close to him as he could get. Because he could sense no connection with his Daddy. All his life he had felt his Mama and his Daddy humming underneath his skin. When his Mamma had left them, the humming had dulled and made him so sad but he could still feel his Daddy. His Daddy was part of him and Cub. But now it felt like he was all alone in the world, even though sometimes he could feel a weak fizzly sort of hum that he knew was his Grampa. So he lay there in bed staring desperately at his Daddy, willing him with all his heart to wake up and trying not to cry when he didn’t. All this meant that neither Kit nor Cub could sleep properly.  
  
Cub was anxious, Kit was anxious and he had had bad dreams of the bad men and bad doggies who were chasing them, hurting his Daddy so his Daddy had to go live in Heaven like everyone else he loved and even that pretty lady with Daddy’s eyes and smile from that photo that Grampa kept on his big Sheriff’s desk. He couldn’t dream his happy dreams because Daddy wasn’t awake to tell him stories of Mama before the bad man took her away and sent her to Heaven.  
His heart hurt like it was empty while Daddy was sleeping. Daddy’s hum was always a happy warm sort of buzzing feeling inside him. He had tried to explain it to Daddy once and the only thing he could think off to describe it was his heart felt like it had lots of happy bees singing and making honey.  
  
Daddy had laughed and said that was a really good way to describe love. That word kind of confused Kit, because he loved lots of things and they didn’t have the same happy buzzing hum that being with Daddy gave him. Kit thought it might be more than love because the happy bees only buzzed properly for Daddy now after his Momma had gone to heaven. Kit thought it was more special than love, Kit thought it meant family. Because Momma and Mama Cat always said family was the most important feeling in the world.  
  
Kit didn’t tell anyone about the bad dreams and not getting enough sleep. Definitely not the stinky doggies and not even his Grampa, though he kinda thought his Grampa might know because of the way Grampa watched him sometimes. He had the same look on his face that Daddy had when Daddy knew Kit wasn’t telling him everything, like the times Kit tried to hide he was hungry when they didn’t have enough money for food while they were running so hard away from the bad people but Daddy always knew and he would find a way to get food for Kit and Cub.  
  
But now Daddy was awake and it seemed like he was friends with Grampa again so Cub wasn’t restless anymore. Cub wanted to sleep and so did Kit. The happy bees were back and they had even started singing their buzzing bee song more loudly for Grampa.

Stiles stared down at his sleeping child, his mind purposefully blank, just revelling in the sight of his cub, safe for once. He missed his Snow with an ache that resonated through his entire body right down to his bone marrow. A bruise to his heart and soul that would never truly fade.  
Their beautiful amazing baby son was so like her, in temperament and looks. Snow would never truly leave him whilst he had that miracle of their love and shared DNA and he would do anything, absolutely anything to keep his boy safe. 

His resolve had only strengthened since waking up to find himself back in his father’s house. He would do what he had to do to protect Snow’s beautiful child. Everything else, everyone else, was acceptable collateral damage. If at odd moments he felt again the stroke of fur against his neck and the echo of a sweet loving voice telling him that family was everything even when they hurt you, he locked the beloved memories safely away in the depths of his mind because he could not afford to be anything less than ruthless in defence of their son.  Weakness was not an option when the result would hurt his child. He would sacrifice anyone to keep his Kit safe. 

Sheriff John Stilinski stared at the slowly cooling coffee in his mug. He didn’t want it. He had made it on autopilot just to give himself something to do, a reason to stay downstairs because he desperately wanted to follow the pair of them upstairs to Stiles’s old bedroom. He wanted to check they were safe, tuck them into bed and just sit there and listen to them breathe, watch their chests rise and fall. Physical comforting proof that they were alive and that they were there, actually there and safe underneath his roof. The same way he used to when Stiles had been a baby, when John had just got off a late shift, needing the comfort of his baby boy’s gentle breathing to unwind after dealing with his duties as a Deputy. The habit had revived after Claudia had died, it had become a compulsion for a while, needing to be close to his son, needing to hear proof that his son was still with him.  
He had sat outside his kid’s part open bedroom door for hours, soothed by the sound, sometimes tears falling slowly unheeded because he was just so grateful that his little boy was alive.  
  
A small wry smile twisted his lips. He didn’t think Stiles would welcome or appreciate that kind of behaviour at that moment, even though the need itched beneath his skin worse than the old desire for liquor to dull his pain.  He damn well knew he was on thin ice with his kid so he was trying to give him some space and time. Though for fuck sake Stiles had disappeared for seven years without a word to his old man, hadn’t that been enough space and time for him? John’s hand clenched around the mug at that burst of bitter resentment.  
  
He forced himself to calm down. It had been distrust and bitter anger on all sides which had escalated that whole situation seven years ago until finally Stiles had taken off and just disappeared. He wasn’t going to lose this chance of regaining his son by dredging up those useless emotions again. He had told Scott he had learnt his lesson. He just had to prove it now. He had to prove it to Stiles.  
Stiles had only agreed to stay after John had manipulated him into it. He couldn’t, wouldn’t regret doing that. There had to be a way back from all this shit. He refused to believe anything else.  
  
Stiles was Claudia’s son too and she would have kicked both their asses from here to Thanksgiving for their behaviour towards each other. She would have castrated John with a smile when she found out what had happened but she wouldn’t have put up with this disappearance shit either. Stiles would have had his ticket clocked for that one.  
  
He did however and always would, regret what had happened that had forced Stiles to leave but by Christ, he wouldn’t regret what he had done to get Stiles and his grandson to stay. Even if it was only for a short time. It meant his boy was home, within John’s line of sight and under his protection. The relief he had felt when he realised his son was alive, that he was in touching distance, that there he was right in front of him, well he didn’t have the words to adequately describe it. His knees had actually gone weak and he had slid down that damn wall like his limbs had turned to fucking jelly.  
Whatever time he had with Stiles, with his son and his grandson, he would damn well lay the ground work for the kid to be able to come home again. Anything else was not acceptable.  
   
Stiles and Kit desperately needed some downtime, to feel safe from whatever was threatening them. And John could provide that safety. He would shelter and feed his son and grandson until the gauntness had left Stiles’s cheeks. He might not be able to do anything about the shadows in his boy’s eyes but he would make sure his stubborn little shit actually ate and slept and that he knew little Kit was safe here. 

John carefully rested the still full coffee mug on the floor beside the chair. He wasn’t in any hurry to move from it, suddenly exhausted and desperate to close his eyes for a moment. He rested his head back against the chair but it wasn’t the gentle slide into an oblivious nap that awaited him when his eyelids flickered down, it was the technicolour surround sound god awful memory of that god awful dreadful day, the one that still seeped into his nightmares where he watched helplessly as his younger self angrily set in motion the events that had driven his boy so far away from home and his own father.

_The cruiser wasn’t outside the house, and Stiles’s shoulders released some of their tension. His Dad wasn’t home. Good, he had time to get his gear together and get back to the pack before those idiots did something they would regret. They only had one chance at this and why the hell couldn’t they just listen to him instead of leaping into the fray like baying hounds after a fox. Scott was. No he wasn’t going there right now. Scott and he needed to have a good old fashioned chat about Scott’s fucking wilful blind stupidity. But they needed to deal with Jennifer Blake first. Why the hell wouldn’t they just listen to him? There was something seriously wrong with that woman. Derek must be fucking desperate for sex and he was so not thinking about that or his anger would make him take a fucking bat to the Sourwolf douchebag. Why the hell couldn’t they see it? To Stiles she felt unclean. He wanted to scrub himself every time she smiled at him in English class.  But the pack just thought she was innocent, that there was no way that she could be involved in the disappearances. Stiles had even gone to Deaton in desperation, that less than helpful obscure prick who had ignored his legitimate concerns once again and basically told him to trust the true Alpha. What the actual fuck?  
  
__Stiles opened the door and then stopped dead as he saw his father sitting at the table. His Dad looked older, bitter lines etched into his face, obliterating his normal kind expression.  
_  
_He sat there still in his uniform staring down at the gold Sheriff’s badge in one hand as he sipped from a half empty  tumbler with his other hand. The tumbler glass tinkled as it thudded to land next to the newly opened bottle of Jack as his father turned his head to stare at him as if he was an unwelcome stranger. Stiles felt his anxiety rack up at how empty the man’s eyes were. He hadn’t seen his Dad like this since the bad days after his Mom died._

_“Home already from School son, let you out early did they?” The quiet question forced a faint shiver of dread down Stiles’s spine. “Hey Dad” he smiled weakly, “Could say the same about you?” then he almost cursed his lack of filter as he saw rage flash across his father’s face but he must have been mistaken because his father’s face was just blank._

_His Dad lifted the tumbler again and took another deliberate swallow. His eyes didn’t leave Stiles though. The piercing gaze made Stiles feel like he was a criminal suspect facing the Sheriff in an interrogation._

_But before he could say a word, his father spoke again._

_“Hmm, not quite the euphemism I would use for getting sacked but it’ll do I suppose” the bitter mockery in his father’s voice threw Stiles for a second until he realised what the man had said._

_“Sacked?” Stiles’s voice was quiet now, oh god, he knew where this was going. He had lost his father his job. After that shit he and Scott had pulled with Jackson and the resultant Restraining Order. Jackson’s father the District Attorney had never liked the Sheriff before that clusterfuck had happened. DA Whittemore must have finally found a way to remove his Dad from office._

_His father continued in an almost indifferent tone, “Indefinite suspension without pay pending internal investigation into conduct unbecoming of an elected Law Enforcement Officer with the certainty of criminal charges should there be a case to answer is the official terminology but really let’s cut the crap shall we? I have been sacked and am just waiting to find out if I am doing jail time” Stiles paled, struck speechless, he didn’t know what to say to break the dreadful silence._  
  
_He could feel the tears burning behind his eyes but he couldn’t drop his gaze from the awful look on his father’s face._  
 _“Dad” his voice was hoarse, but he couldn’t seem to say any more. He had wanted to protect his father. Deaton had impressed upon Scott and Stiles the danger their parents would be in if they found out what was going on. Derek had confirmed the danger, fuck that psycho Peter had even targeted Scott’s Mom. Scott had freaked when he found out she had gone on a date with the homicidal werewolf._

_He couldn’t lose his Dad, he couldn’t. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost his Dad too. That one word from Stiles seemed to break the dam holding back his father’s rage._

_“God almighty Stiles what did you do? I've lost my fucking job because of you, you selfish little bastard” The rage, disappointment and disbelief in his father’s voice hit Stiles like a smack across the face. “Dad please” Stiles tried to interrupt, his brain searching frantically for words, for a way to stop this without spilling any information that would endanger his Dad more. “I can, I can explain”_  
h _e almost stuttered the words out._  
 _“Oh now you want to talk, now you want to explain huh? After months, months of lies and deceit and god damn borderline criminal activity until you finally lose me my job. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think your mother would be proud of you right now, do you think she would be proud of the things you have done.” His father roared at him.  Those bitter words hit him like individual punches to his heart._  
  
_“I wanted to protect you” The almost whispered answer burst out before Stiles could stop it and his father looked at him with a disbelief almost bordering on dislike “Protect me?” Suddenly his Dad’s voice was cold, freezing Stiles’s blood. “Protect me, you stupid little boy. You've just destroyed my life”_

_The words burned through Stiles like fire. All this time, hiding everything, trying to protect his Dad and it had only made things worse. Fuck Deaton the druid, fuck Derek Hale and yeah fuck Scott the self-centred prick. Fuck all the supernatural bullshit he had put up with to protect everyone.  
His Dad was the most important person in his life and now he was losing his Dad anyway. He had to tell him and maybe there was a way that they could salvage this disaster if they worked together. Guilt and fear churned in his stomach as he stared into his father’s face._

_“Please Dad” he begged, “I can explain but I need Scott here to do it, please”. The Sheriff softened slightly at the sight of the tears in his kid’s eyes.  He nodded grudgingly “Okay Stiles, get him here and then you had better tell me the truth. No more lies kid. No more”_

_He turned away from his son to deliberately finish what was left in the tumbler, but then he put the tumbler on top of the liquor bottle and took it into the kitchen before he came back into the living room to sit in his chair and wait for the god damn explanation._

_“I’m sorry Sheriff Stiles is lying. I don’t know why he’s made this story up but it is not true. I’m not a werewolf. There’s no such thing.” Scott’s words were cold but the look he turned on Stiles should have burned the skin off his body.  He stared unblinkingly at Stiles as he denied every word of his explanation to his Dad._

_Stiles was in shock. What the hell? He stared at Scott in disbelief. He could feel the rage from his Dad and he could see the rage in his best friend’s eyes. Stiles lost it. He threw a punch at Scott, who moved  to avoid it, much too fast for a human, and snarled soundlessly at him, the red flashing in Scott’s eyes a complete give away. But his father had turned away and moved into the kitchen to get the tumbler and bottle of whiskey so he missed the interaction. His father ordered bluntly “Go home Scott, I’m sorry you were bothered with this”._  
  
_Scott grabbed Stiles’ shirt and pulled him close, almost choking him with his grip. He hissed furiously into his ear. “You nearly ruined everything Stiles you selfish prick.” He shoved him away and walked out the front door without looking back._  
 _But Stiles was infuriated. He buried the hurt and betrayal and ran out after his so called best friend. He grabbed hold of Scott and slammed him against the outside wall, ignoring the warning growl and the hint of fang.  “You fucker you told your own Mom, and you just betrayed me to my Dad”_  
 _Before Stiles could land the punch Scott gripped his fist and squeezed, Stiles doubled over with the excruciating pain.  “I had to keep her safe from Peter Dude.“_  
 _Stiles bit the clawed hand that was holding him down and then spat “What about keeping my Dad safe Dude_ ”.

_Scott released Stiles hand and watched him drop to the ground. “For fuck sake Stiles, grow up, your father’s the Sheriff no one is going to hurt him. He’ll get over this but I have to keep Ally and Mom safe” he said dismissively._

_Stiles stared up at him white-faced “Who the fuck are you?” he whispered “My best friend wouldn’t do this to me.” Scott flinched slightly, then sighed impatiently “Look there are things I haven’t told you about” he began but Stiles wasn’t listening, the mixture of rage, betrayal and hurt was churning in his gut.  “I don’t care you douche, you want to protect that psychotic hunter bitch who stood there and watched as the crap was kicked out of me by her grandfather that’s just fucking fine, I will get one of the other loser fur balls to confirm the story to my Dad.”_

_Rage flashed across Scott’s face, how dare Stiles say that about Allison “Then you will look even more pathetic than usual because not one of them will do that. I have already warned them what you were up to and they have all agreed that you are not worth the effort of fucking out themselves to the Sheriff” He sneered and then turned to walk away. “When you come to your senses Stiles I’ll talk to you but you’re not welcome in the pack if that’s all you are gonna do is whine about your Dad”_

 

John could still hear Stiles’s tear laden pleading to him as clear as the moment he had spoken.   
  
_“Please Dad, please just talk to Melissa, I’m not lying, I’m not please. I swear on Mom's grave I’m not” It was the mention of Claudia that finally caused John to utterly lose his shit._

_“I don’t know how or where I went wrong with you but I am so done with your crap.  Just get out, get out of my sight. Get out” he roared as he flung the glass at the wall, and it splintered into shatters, a perfect metaphor for their relationship_

He hadn’t realised that Stiles was going to literally take him at his words because the last memory John had of his son for seven long despairing years was of a white face and bleak betrayed eyes as he turned his back on him to get another glass. 

John opened his eyes from the god awful memories, not realising that he had tears on his cheeks until he looked up into the impassive face of his son who was standing silently in front of him. The words came spilling out of his mouth without his permission. He didn’t want to do this now, he didn’t want to chance chasing his kid away again but nothing could stop them.

“Jesus Christ Stiles, when I realised what I had done and that I couldn’t find you, when nothing I did could find you, when you disappeared off the face of the fucking earth, it hurt as bad as when your Mom died. I went to Melissa and she told me the truth. I punched Deaton’s lights out and once I was reinstated I made those kids lives hell.  But nothing, nothing stopped the hurt of not being able to find you son.  If you gotta go again I can’t stop you but please, I’m begging you, don’t cut me out and leave me hanging again, please. Just let me know you are safe, that you are both safe and still alive.”  
  
The sob that ended his words was forced back down again but there was no reassurance or warmth in the blank dark eyes which stared down at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its been a long time. The muse left me high and dry on this one because my original thoughts on the betrayal didn't work. So I focused on other stories but have now given this a second chance (hehehe, I do love little insider jokes..)  
> I do have a much better end mostly written and now I have got over the stumbling block then updates will not be taking nearly a year. ( Touching wood as I write this!)  
> Hope you enjoy. I should reiterate that that there might be angst but happy endings are my thing. Had to deal with too many unhappy endings in real life so I will damn well control the endings to my own stories. Thank you for your patience. . I promise all my stories will be finished but timelines are fluid.....


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff remembers what happened in the immediate aftermath of his fight with Stiles.

John woke up with the hangover from hell. His mouth tasted like a cat’s litter tray. Damn it he was not going to throw up. Stiles would never let him hear the end of it.  And right now he couldn’t cope with his son’s snarky sarcastic ass.  An image of Stiles pale face popped into his head as well as memories of a hell of a lot of shouting and accusations. What the hell? Christ he was going to have to look at his alcohol consumption if he couldn’t even remember why or what he had said to… Well fuck he did remember. And right now he wished he couldn’t.  
  
A spike of pain shot through him that had nothing to do with the hangover and everything to do with the fight he had started with his teenage son. Fuck it he hadn’t meant to go off on Stiles like that, but the rage disappointment and downright hurt that he had been swallowing for the months that Stiles had been lying to him had overflown like a goddamn overheated volcano when he had been given his marching orders by that smug smirking son of a bitch Whittemore.  The bastard had even come to the station to do it though he hadn’t been best pleased when not one of his Deputies had followed the order to “escort Mr Stilinski from the building after a body search”.

Parrish had looked at the guy as if he had just crawled out from under a rock. Then the rest of the Deputies had turned their back on the infuriated DA and got back to work. John had nearly laughed out loud as Parrish had offered the Sheriff a lift home because he would have to leave the cruiser at the station, but that had been his only amusement for the whole of that shitty day. He had taken Parish up on his offer, told the rest of his people to stick to the roster and duty schedules as far as possible and to make sure the temporary replacement Sheriff had their support until this misunderstanding was all sorted.  
  
John might not be a traditional politician, it would stick in his craw. He was too much of a cop, he actually believed in the law and justice for everybody. He won his elections because he was a damn good one, but he could still play the stupid game if he needed to. He ignored the suited piece of work who snorted at the word misunderstanding, just like the rest of his crew left the guy standing there like a useless spare piece of furniture. 

Whittemore might have enjoyed coming in person to suspend him but he sure wasn’t getting his monies worth from John’s reaction or the rest of his officers.

John forced the rage and humiliation down into his gut, he wouldn’t give the asshole the satisfaction of losing control. But it bubbled and spat like searing hot lava and unfortunately Stiles was the one who bore the brunt of the emotional eruption. God damn it, he would have to apologise to the kid, even if he had tried to lie yet again with even more outlandish stories. What the hell Stiles. What was so bad that the kid had to make up fairy tales as his excuse for his behaviour? And fucking drag Scott into it for corroboration, not surprisingly Scott had denied it. Seriously Stiles, how the hell were you going to get Scott to provide evidence of being a god damn werewolf?

Christ his whole body ached, even his god damn eyelashes and he stank to high heaven, he needed a shower.  
After downing a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and some painkillers, he made his way gingerly to the bathroom. He turned the water temperature up to the highest he could stand and stood there under the downpour, letting the heat, steam and slight sting of the water pressure on his tense muscles work its magic.  
  
He washed himself quickly and then just stood there, mindlessly watching the small bubbles drain away, wishing that all his problems were so easy to get rid of as the sweat and grime of the previous day. The beautiful image of David Whittemore shrinking under the water like the wicked witch of the west and being flushed away down the shower drain actually made him snort out loud with genuine but short lived amusement. Short lived because his mind finally snapped back into focus and that damn question popped up again, nagging at his cop instincts like Stiles on a tear about his annual cholesterol scores.

He frowned, Stiles wasn’t stupid. Stiles was manipulative, cunning, canny and incredibly clever. Not stupid, never stupid so why would he ask Scott to be his evidence. It didn’t make sense.  The way Scott had denied it also didn’t make sense, there had been real anger in his face, he had been angry at Stiles and there had been an almost vengeful expression in those puppy dog eyes. What the hell? Scott never looked at Stiles like that, but what was even more odd was that Stiles had looked betrayed but unsurprised as if he was expecting Scott to let him down.

Worry began to creep through his veins. Where was Stiles? He had left the house last night and John had assumed he had gone to Scott’s house. That’s what too much booze and anger did for you. Made you fucking stupid. Jesus there was no way after that little scene that Stiles was at the McCall house, so where was his boy?

He left the bathroom in a hurry, still dripping as he went to collect his cell. Damn it, he had left it at the station with the rest of his equipment except for his badge. No way were they taking his goddamn badge unless they fired him and right now he was more concerned about his son that his damn  job.  Time to wise up Stilinski, Claudia would have kicked your ass for letting the whole damn thing get this far.

He reached for the house landline, but Stiles wasn’t picking up. He glanced up at the hallway clock, of course he wasn’t picking up, the kid would be in class right now. It was still a weekday, Friday so he had school. God damn his hung over clearly deteriorating brain cells.  
When the answerphone kicked in, John cleared his throat, suddenly unsure what he wanted to say, residual guilt eating at him as he remembered the expression on Stiles’ face when he yelled at him.  
“Hey kid, ring me when you get a chance yeah, just want to know you are safe. We’ll talk after school and sort this all out” The recording stopped just before he muttered “Love you Stiles”  
  
His headache was coming back with a vengeance. What was it Stiles had said to him last night? Something about talking to Melissa McCall. He had plenty of time before Stiles was home from school. He would go and have a chat with her and then get take out on his way home, soften the kid up with some curly fries and then they would get to the bottom of this shit before he dealt with the clusterfuck at work. Yesterday he had been too angry and disappointed to get his priorities straight, in the cold light of day even with a god damn hangover he knew he had fucked up with his kid.  
   
Stiles had been acting out but he was the parent, the adult. All the lying, the deceitful and borderline criminal behaviour for months. Somehow he had managed to lose his son’s trust and respect, and he was damn well going to get it back. If it meant begging Melissa McCall for information about his own kid then so be it. The realisation that right now, his work didn’t need to come first, that he could concentrate all his efforts on dealing with Stiles was filled with a bitter relief. He would get something right in his life and that meant Stiles.

There had to be a reason for all this. Thank the good lord that he had insisted on Stiles undergoing a test to determine if he would be prone to the same disease that had killed Claudia, not that the ten year old had understood what it was at the time. At the end she had been paranoid and delusional. When Stiles had mentioned werewolves, for one wild terrifying minute he had considered that Claudia’s condition was genetic and the gene testing results had been wrong.  But then his anger and disappointment had gotten the better of him. Stiles was still lying to him and this time not even his best bud was backing him up.

He knocked on Melissa's front door. 

"Come in John, I've been expecting you for a while. Thank God they finally told you" 

* * *

 

Alan Deaton slowly brought up his hand to his nose. He knew it was broken, and blood was seeping through his fingers as he stared with shock up at the coldly enraged man looming over him.

“Sheriff” he tried to speak but had to stop to spit out the mouthful of blood.

“You are a piece of work Deaton. You hung those kids out to dry and I’m including Hale in that. Now my Stiles is missing. I’m going to make your life as fucking miserable as you made my son’s”

For once Deaton spoke without thinking “You are suspended Stilinski, you can’t do anything to me”

The smile that crossed John’s face made the blood in the Druid’s veins turn to ice. 

* * *

 

“Hello David, Marie. Nice place you have here”

“Are you out of your mind Stilinski, I am going to have you fired and sent to jail for breaking in to our home”

“No Whittemore what you are going to do is reinstate me and then forget the Sheriff’s department exists until we sent you any cases. No more interference, no more obstruction, no more vendetta”

“You are insane, I’m calling the police now”

“Before you do that let’s talk about a murderous lizard man boy called a Kanima aka Jackson Whittemore. I have even brought pictures for your edification”

* * *

“Gerard Argent, you are under arrest for the abduction, false imprisonment and torture of minors”

“You can’t be serious, I am a respected Educator”

“As serious as you are about getting an Alpha to bite you so that you can recover from your terminal cancer”

“What?”

“I’m doing you a favour really. Young Scott has been feeding you wolfsbane so even if you did get Hale to bite you, it would be an immediate agonising death. My way you get to live a little longer but the downside is that you feel it eating away at your body”

“Let me speak to my son”

“See now, I can’t speak to my son because he’s missing, so no you don’t get to speak to yours.” 

* * *

 

“But Sheriff, please I need my bike to get to work”

“Then you need to pay the fine at the compound, and pay to fix all the defects to make it road worthy Scott. You have seven days to pay the fine or it will be sent to be crushed. Its not a storage yard and we need the space. Now if that’s all, I have work to do.”

“Sheriff please I don’t have that kind of money”

“That’s a shame Scott. Of course I’m sure that Stiles would have come up with a solution for you but Stiles isn’t here is he? Betraying your brother doesn’t get you special treatment Scott, maybe that nice Argent family you are so fond of can help.” 

* * *

 

“Stiles, please please please Son come home”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interlude that doesn't really enhance the plot but the next chapter will. Hope to have it up by the weekend.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris Argent wants answers.

Chris Argent stared down at what remained of the body of the strange Werewolf on the cold storage slab in Deaton’s Veterinarian centre.  
The place had grown over the years, it now included a larger theatre for surgery, more spacious detainment area with extremely strong cages and a disposal facility for beloved pets and road kill.  
  
The Vet had obtained all the necessary permits and licences to run the County animal crematorium with enough space available to deal with animals as large as horses. The fact that this had been partially funded by the pack and the hunter standing there because it solved a lot of their own disposal problems had not been mentioned in any paperwork, although the Sheriff was more than aware and had in fact used the amenities a time or two himself when the supernatural had spilled over into police work even if the Sheriff’s dislike for the Druid was unmistakable.  
  
Argent’s face was utterly impassive but his mind was racing. He had no doubt that the Alpha could scent his disquiet at the sight before him. McCall had become better at using his Werewolf senses once he had finally accepted Hale’s help.  
“How long after his heart stopped beating did he turn into this?” Chris asked, he needed as much information as possible to begin researching this.  
  
“We didn’t have a stop watch Dude” McCall grumbled with a scowl that made him look like that damn eternal teenager again. Chris raised one eyebrow and glared at him in exasperation until his son-in-law sighed, relaxed his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak.  
Chris took immense satisfaction in interrupting him, he hated being called Dude and Scott knew it. The little bastard did it deliberately  
  
“From the top Scott, I want to know what happened. I want to know why the body of a god damn omega werewolf has disintegrated into bones old enough to be an exhibit in a museum. Don’t leave anything out”.

Scott rolled his eyes, and there was a glint of red that warned Chris not to push it but he was more than happy for Chris to help out with this. Scott had run a test on the bones himself, perks of being Deaton’s partner in the business, and they had been dated to nearly three hundred years old. The Werewolf had been immensely strong and it had taken his Alpha strength and the combined efforts of two of his pack Betas to finally bring the bastard down.  
Scott wasn’t sure if he would have been able to take out the guy by himself and that scared the shit out of him. For the love of God, he was the true Alpha, as an Omega the guy should submitted and been on his knees with one good roar. Instead it had needed three of them to take him down.    
  
He didn’t like admitting weakness to a hunter but Chris was his father in law and part of his pack even if Allison was sometimes the only tenuous link that held them together. But they needed answers and they needed them fast since Stiles was being less than forthcoming. Right now Chris and his connections were the only thing Scott could think of to get those answers. His only other option had been Peter Hale.with his esoteric and downright dangerous knowledge of the Supernatural. But the Zombie Wolf was out of the picture, on one of his periodic pilgrimages to somewhere he hadn’t seen fit to mention for an undetermined amount of time.   
  
Scott’s eyes flickered back to the crumbling old bones that had belonged to a living breathing being a very short time ago and a shudder ran down his spine. Just what kind of monster was chasing Stiles and his kid and was there more of them? How could the pack keep Stiles and little Kit safe?  
If they didn’t know what they were fighting how could they prepare for it? Scott almost winced as those words rang through his head in Stiles voice. It could have been his best friend’s motto back when they had been teenagers.

Scott turned back to his father in law and began to speak.

 

Stiles knew he was being followed and he had a damn good idea who it was. For fuck sake, obvious much? A black SUV tailing him out towards the preserve. Now who could it possibly be?  
Hunters. Unimaginative bastards the lot of them until it came to the torture and killing of other sentient beings. Then, oh then, they let themselves run riot.  
   
Thank God he had left Kit with his old man, because if the bastard ever approached his baby boy he would gut him without hesitation before he could draw the breath to say his first word.

Christ the guy had terrified the life out of him when Stiles was a teenager. The dick had done it deliberately. Now after everything he had gone through with Snow, her family and Kit, he was less of an irritant than an insignificant buzzing insect and Stiles had the power and inclination to swat him like one too.

Stiles had dropped Kit off at the Sheriff Station. He had some errands to run that couldn’t include his son and had asked his father to look after the little boy the day before. He had ignored the questioning expression on his father’s face. His errands were private and he had no intention of discussing them with anyone. He didn't have a lot of time left to prepare.   
   
In response to the silence his father had taken him to the garage. Stiles had stared at him in confusion as his Dad had passed him the remote and just told him to open it.The metal doors had risen and instead of the cluttered mess of old furniture, boxes of clothes, old toys and miscellaneous items that the pair of them had never got around to donating to charity after his Mom’s death, there was a familiar blue jeep.

Stiles had stilled with the instinct of a hunted prey, it took him a few seconds to find his voice because he would be damned before he let his father know how much it hurt to see the vehicle he had sold so long ago again.  
  
He didn’t need to worry, his father had filled the silence nervously “I traced it to the new owner but by then it had been damaged because the asshole was using it for off-roading. In my spare time I have been working on it with one of the Deputies’ help and its almost as good as when we bought it new for your Mom”  
  
He cleared his throat and continued as when Stiles remained silent and still beside him.  
   
“Well, kinda thought you would need transport while you are here so…” the Sheriff trailed off as he suddenly threw the keys towards Stiles who caught them with unthinking grace and accuracy. Nothing like his old teenage flailing clumsiness. For a painfully intense second the Sheriff remembered the kid’s enthusiastic gleeful acceptance of the car keys when he had been given them after passing his test and he had to blink to clear his eyes.  
  
God damn it, he had to stop thinking of Stiles as that long lost teenager, he was a man grown now and so different that it hurt to consider what the kid had been through to be like this. Not that his son had told him anything about it. He had only learnt his daughter in law’s name because of Kit.

Stiles had looked down at the keys in his hand, once more at the blue jeep and then almost shyly peeped up through his eyelashes at his father as he thanked him. For a second those beautiful amber eyes were as full of warmth and affection as they had been when his kid was a little boy and then they blinked and returned to the bland neutrality with which he faced his father. A kinder expression than the derisive contempt he reserved for the rest of the pack but god damn it hurt after being reminded of what they once had.  The Sheriff cleared the lump from his throat and told Stiles to drop Kit off when he needed to as he was in the office all that day.  


Chris Argent drove carefully down the road after the familiar old blue jeep. He hadn’t seen it for years but he knew that the Sheriff and Parrish worked on it when they had spare time.  

He had made his peace with the pack and the Sheriff about a year after Stiles had left. He had been too angry about Victoria to even think about it before.  It had taken Allison threatening to leave and go and live with the McCalls for him to finally accept that she was with the Werewolf for good and Christ that stuck in his craw. But if he wanted to stay in Ally’s life he had to find a way of dealing with the Alpha.

Argent needed to speak to Stiles. He knew the kid would have some answers. His research so far had given him nothing. He wasn’t even sure how the Sheriff’s son had actually met a god damn Were-tiger because they were solitary, and even anti-social, preferring to stay in their home territories rather than travel the world.    
  
Scott had also given him a name for the alleged villain “Koi” which had apparently triggered a murderous patricidal impulse in Stiles but he had no success with his contacts on that, just some flippant cocky emails which asked him if he was having supernatural problems with gold fish.  
Chris had carefully noted the assholes who had responded in that vein with a view to paying them individual visits in the near future.  
  
Argent was worried. There was something off about the whole damn situation and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what that was. John Stilinski was just too grateful to have his son and grandson back to consider the issues or even be a professional suspicious law man, and the Alpha and co were feeling too guilty to question it properly.  
There was something wrong. He knew it in his bones and they might be starting to creak but they were nowhere near the age of the skeleton of the dead Omega.  

He came to his decision,  there were no other vehicles on the Preserve road, no witnesses,  there was no over protective Papa or Alpha to stop him so he sped up to catch the Jeep, overtook it and then swung the SUV into an arc to create a road block. Something dangerous was heading their way and the Stilinski kid knew what was going on. The boy had been easy enough to intimidate when he was younger even if he had been a sarcastic little shit.

The Jeep squealed to a halt inches away from the front bumper of the SUV.

In the ringing silence Chris Argent stepped out of the vehicle. Calm cold determination shone in those ice blue eyes as they met the hooded gaze of the man behind the wheel of the Jeep.  
  
It was time to get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr Argent basically took over the chapter but it has advanced the plot somewhat so can't really complain. It's just taking me a little longer to get to the big finale which is actually mostly written because I keep on finding gaps I need to cover in the plot, Hey ho we'll get there.  
> On another note can I say thank you all for your comments and Kudos. This story definitely seems to have struck a chord with lots of people, which is wonderful and so satisfying. 
> 
> Boring Authors note now: I feel I should just point out that this is my story and it will go in the direction I want it to. 99% of my writing involves happy endings. They have to work to get there but there will be a happy ending. Might not be some people's idea of a happy ending but it will be mine and it will fit in with the story. As I am writing it I get to say what happens. Lol.
> 
> I am just re-iterating this, not to be a dick but simply because I had a rather thought provoking comment on a completed story that was supposed to be fun and humorous. Apparently the ending was ruined because I introduced a plot line that was not approved of. Despite the fact that the majority of my readers liked it ( as did I) the comment did make me think. So for clarification, my stories, my plots, my endings. Constructive criticism is appreciated but definitely not attempts at censorship. 
> 
> Now the really important bit. Aiming for the next chapter within the next two weeks. :) x

**Author's Note:**

> Non compliant to the series, so everyone is alive (If I want them to be). More tags/pairings will be added later. First few chapters mainly family angsty. Will get to the wink wink nudge nudge mature themes at some point.
> 
> Warning lots of angst, (see title) some fluff.. please a werecat child, what's not to fluff. 
> 
> This does not belong to me, will not ever belong to me and will never make money out of it. I am merely just enjoying playing with the characters from an imaginative tv series and spreading soul destroying sadness for personal development purposes but there again I must state that there is a fluffy werekitten, an incredibly fluffy werekitten, so much fluff on that werekitten it needs a brush.
> 
> Actually have this one planned out and should be about 8 or 9 chapters so enjoy some actiony angsty kidfic on a wet Sunday evening in May you lovely people xxx  
> P.s no beta, not American so if I write something too British for this let me know or even you know, let me know if you like it or if things need to be changed.  
> P.P.S I used the Sheriff's real name for the Kitty and their aliases, because I am just a rebel at heart....  
> P.P.P.S There will be a satisfactorily happyish ending because I can and because its May and there have been too many unhappy endings for me personally in May, so thats all I have to say about that.


End file.
